Where We Were
by nyxnotnicks
Summary: This story explores the Luteces from their childhood up to their 'deaths'.
1. Destiny

When the morning came Rosalind looked at it with new eyes. She felt a swelling of excitement in her chest, so large and strong she feared she wouldn't be able to breathe deep enough to sustain herself. She slipped out of bed, dashing over to her dresser. She peered at it, trying to determine if she had grown any in the night. She was certain she must done so. How could her mind have changed so much and her body not at all?

Her mother came in as she was attempting to determine whether her legs were longer by comparing them to her stockings. She looked up sheepishly while her mother chuckled. "Good morning. You're late for breakfast."

Rosalind nodded and stood, taking off her nightgown. Her mother came to help her dress faster, and Rosalind spoke while they set themselves to the task. "I had a dream last night, mother." She said it with all seriousness. She saw her mother attempt to suppress a chuckle. It was annoying, but Rosalind continued talking. Her mother thought it was funny when she was serious, but this _was_serious. "I dreamed I was standing in a room full of people, all my age. I was surrounded by girls, and they all looked quite like me. Each one was just a little different, and they grew more different as they stretched out toward the end. I think they were all me, but in different places, perhaps even different worlds. There were boys at the edge of the room, and the walls had mirrors on them which reflected the room and its inhabitants into forever."

"What an imagination, dear." The patronizing tone in her mother's voice made Rosalind quite cross. She stomped her foot, which drew a stern look from her mother. "I'm sure you'll forget all about this nightmare soon enough." Her mother kissed her forehead, which somehow made it all worse. Rosalind uncrossed her arms and drew on her dress, submitting to being tied into it.

"It was real, mother. Those girls were real." Rosalind didn't expect her mother to understand. She felt distressed that the reality of those visions was being called into question. Adults could be so unendingly dense. "It was no nightmare. It was destiny."

"Such a thing to talk about." Her mother said, shaking her head a little. "You're a child, dear. You've no more idea what your destiny is than a duck has of its destiny. Someday you'll see this seriousness has cost you the joys of youth and sorely regret shunning the company of girls your own age for these flights of fancy." The worry in her mother's voice sounded so sincere, but Rosalind resented receiving the same lecture for the hundredth time. She hated being told that she was too serious. She doubted quite sincerely that someone could be too serious or too smart.

Rather than start another argument that would end in tears, Rosalind kept her mouth shut. Her mother sighed softly, smoothing some loose ends of hair back into the plait that held the girl's hair in check. "Go get some breakfast, dear. You'll be off to school soon and your father likes to see you in the morning before he goes to work."

"Of course, mother." Rosalind said, in the sing song voice of a phrase which one must repeat whether they are sincere about it or not. She strode out of her bedroom, her mind whirring with thoughts. Surely one of the children in the dream had to be real. She just had to find one of them and talk to them, if only for a moment. They would surely understand where her parents did not.

* * *

Robert had the energy of ten boys when he woke up the morning after the dream he knew had changed his life. He dashed out of bed and drew on his dressing gown as he went flying out his bedroom door, racing to tell his mother of it before he forgot. He found her in the kitchen preparing breakfast. She looked over at him when he came in, breathless and excited. She chuckled and tutted at him, smoothing his sleep tousled hair. "You're in quite a state, dear. What's happened?"

Robert hugged her legs, being careful not to disrupt her as she cooked. He took a deep breath and launched into his story, telling it with the earnest excitement of a child, each new detail stoking the fires of his joy.

"I had a dream last night! I dreamed I was looking into a mirror, at another boy like me but he was a little different. Then a mirror came up behind me, and I could see all the mirrors in existence! In each mirror was a boy that looked a lot like me but a little different. The farther out they got the less they looked like me, but I _knew_ they were me. At the very end there might even have been some girls!" The last he said with a laugh. He couldn't imagine being a girl, but he wondered if maybe there was a version of him somewhere who has the same dream but in reverse. Had they seen each other in the dream? The thought made him tremble with excitement.

His mother didn't look at pleased. She gently pressed her hand to his face, checking for fever. "What a strange dream. Are you feeling well?" Her cooking stopped for a moment, which Robert knew meant she was paying complete attention to him. He wondered why she looked so concerned. How could he explain what he'd seen?

"I'm more than well!" He said, with the exaggerated exasperation that is unique to a child having to explain something obvious to a slow-witted adult. He gestured wildly as he spoke, trying the channel the overwhelming desire to make her understand. "This is wonderful, mother, don't you see? A million, no, a _trillion_ mes all in one place! What if they all have their own homes and their own mothers and fathers and some of them are rich and some poor and-"

She shook her head and returned to her cooking, interrupting him mid-sentence. "Dear child, your imagination is running away with you again. Get dressed and wash up before breakfast is ready. You have school today and I don't want you to be late because you're telling stories."

Robert sighed, and nodded. The effervescent joy of his dream evaporated under the heat of his mother's dismissal. He trudged back to his room, closing the door to sulk for a moment when he was alone.

He knew what he'd seen was real. It was as clear to him at the fact that his hand existed. He wanted to meet those other versions of himself and show his mother he was serious. He squared his shoulders again, his face as serious now as it had been excited earlier. "I'm going to find them. I won't rest until I do."


	2. Marriage Prospects

The anger and frustration in the voice coming through the door were both unremarkable to Rosalind. After so many years of it she was all but immune to the effects of her mother's rage. "You can't hide in there forever," the voice said. It was quite accurate but Rosalind was disinclined to face her angry mother while making her statement of independence. She buried her face in her textbook, refusing to answer. She hated that her life should be interrupted with the stupid flights of fancy. She doubted anyone truly enjoyed going to parties.

A beautiful green skirt and its formal bodice were draped over her sewing form. It reminded Rosalind of what society expected of her. A beautiful body swathed in eye catching colors with not a thought in the world but to serve. Rosalind was wearing her day clothes still, her only concession to the thought that she should change clothing the removal of her boots. She sat on the bed, her legs out in front her, crossed at the knees. Her feet were pointed toward the door, which meant that when her mother opened said door she saw the open contempt on Rosalind's face.

Mrs. Lutece moved like an angered god, her heels hitting the wooden floor with a sound not unlike thunder. Rosalind carefully dogeared her book, knowing that a storm was about to break out all over her. She had no intention of losing her place. "What do you think you're doing?" Her mother's voice was much louder now, thought it was unable to contain even one more gram of rage. Her face was red and beginning to turn purple. Rosalind knew on an intellectual level that she was in trouble. She just didn't have the emotional energy to care anymore.

Rosalind tried for a moment to remember the last time she'd heard her mother's voice without that heavy undertone of fury. It occurred to her mother's outbursts were as ladylike as her own desire for a career. Though the thought was mildly amusing, even at her worst Rosalind dare not speak it where her mother might hear.

As anticipated, her mother took the book from Rosalind's hands, throwing it in the corner of the room. That was a relief to Rosalind. The last time she'd stubbornly sat at home reading rather than go to a stupid party the book had gotten the worst end of the deal. She still dare not go back to that library, for fear they would ask after the destroyed tome. She refused to answer her mother's question. It was obvious what she'd been doing, and equally obvious why she was doing it.

She received a sharp slap on the face for her trouble, which knocked her onto her side and dislodged a small amount of hair. The pain was fleeting, but it still shocked Rosalind into motion. She stood up, coming eye to eye with her mother. The older woman nodded, her hands at her sides. "Get dressed. We're leaving soon." The threat in her words was clear. Rosalind had suffered much by refusing to attend these functions. The older she became the worse the punishments were, and the more frequent these fights happened. Going without supper had quickly become the norm after these outbursts, and if this fight involved her father she'd have a lot worse to look forward to than a mere slap on the face.

It was too much, even for Rosalind's strong will. She was alone almost constantly, and often lonely as a result. To come home and suffer these indignities represented a larger threat to her ability to learn than anything else. She lowered her eyes, letting her expression became blank and thoughtful. "Of course, mother," she said, her voice barely loud enough to register in her own ears. If she could smuggle her book in she would at least get time to read in the carriage over. She knew that sometimes a strategic retreat was smarter than continuing on, blind to the consequences.

Mrs. Lutece nodded, sighing softly. "Don't act like this is a punishment. This is for your future, Rosalind. What will become of you if your father dies? Your dowry is not nearly enough to live on for the rest of your life. You need a man to provide you security. Perhaps you could marry one who will teach you about the things you want to learn. That would be nice, wouldn't it?"

Rosalind almost preferred to be hit again, rather than hear her mother plead like that. She felt the irritation of tears forming in her eyes, and her chest compressed, heaving out a soft sob. She covered her face with her hands, sinking to her knees as she was overcome by the emotions that she'd fought so hard for so long to contain. Fear and hopelessness were constant companions, hounding her for being so different, for isolating herself. She was angry, too. The world was shunning her, punishing her for her desire to be more than a vessel for a man to fill with children. The more she learned, the more isolated she became, and the hotter her anger and determination burned. Each cold look she received from a peer carved away more of her desire to be female or associate with women. She wished (for not the first or last time), that she had been born a man. It would all be so much easier.

Her mother also sank to her knees, drawing Rosalind into her arms. Rosalind let this happen, her body nearly convulsing with hideous sobs. She was nearly paralyzed by the strength of her emotions. Her mother stroked her hair and face, holding Rosalind in her arms. Rosalind didn't feel like a fifteen year old anymore. She felt like a child, lost in a world which had no place for her.

The crying lasted five minutes, but Rosalind felt that it was five hours. She gently pulled away from her mother, drawing out a handkerchief to wipe her face. Mrs. Lutece rose slowly, offering Rosalind a hand up.

Rosalind looked up at her mother, then shook her head, pushing herself up. "I'll make my own way, mother." Her voice broke, making her clear her throat to speak clearly. "It's not impossible, and I'm clever. I'll go to your parties, I'll participate in this nonsense, but I will not marry." Though she felt iron resolve and certainty her voice wobbled violently, threatening to send her into another bout of tears.

Her mother shook her head, but stood and went to gather Rosalind's party clothes. "You'll need me to lace your corset. It looks like you loosened it off to sit on the bed." They'd argued about that habit many times, but Rosalind sensed that her mother was as tired of the arguing as she was. It was useless to point out that she'd sit properly if they gave her a proper desk in her room. That had been taken away long ago, and she was certain they'd sold the thing.

After a moment's hesitation Rosalind nodded and unbuttoned her bodice. The first buttons were difficult, but by the time she was stripped to her undergarments her shaking ceased. If she was going to go through with this farce she would do so with as much grace as possible. Perhaps she could participate just enough to regain the emotional stability she needed to pursue her studies.

* * *

Robert looked up from his work when his mother entered the room. Her entranced startled him out of his train of thought. He looked sheepishly at the window before standing. It was dark outside, which meant he'd probably missed supper again. A quick glance showed him that his lamp was close to running out of fuel. He straightened his waistcoat and tugged down the cuffs of his shirt awkwardly. "I'm sorry I missed supper, mother. I was invested in my reading and did not hear you call me."

She sighed softly, shaking her head. "Robert, what are we going to do with you? You were supposed to join us when we went out this evening." There was weariness in his mother's voice. Robert knew she was growing less and less patient with him every day. It was difficult to tolerate. He hated that his interests and studies hurt her. It was his fault for spending so much time reading. He wished he could find a way to reassure her that he did love her, but his studies were important to him.

"I'm sorry, mother." He began, moving forward to take her hand. He was just barely taller than her, so he had to bend slightly to kiss her cheek. "I did want to go, but time got away from me. I do hope you gave my apologies to Mrs. Davenport and her daughter. They seemed quite eager to continue our conversation from last week." He hoped his mother wouldn't cry again. It unsettled him so to see her worry about his future. It made him feel guilty too. He wanted to be interested in the girls that his parents liked but he couldn't find the desire for them that his classmates were more than happy to display. He hoped to continue to conceal it until he went to university. Surely the women he met there would be sufficient quality to garner his respect and desire.

Mrs. Lutece looked up at her son and he saw in her face that she was surely going to cry again. His own expression fell and he looked away. "If you're not interested in Miss Davenport then who are you interested in? We don't want to force a girl upon you if you've no interest in her, but your studies may cost you a family at this rate."

Robert blanched. The pleading in his mother's voice nearly undid Robert. He tightened his fist where his mother couldn't see. He had to be strong, and he had to figure his problem out. He wished he could ask for help. He needed it so desperately. His mother knew how much he wanted a family. It was the one dream that could possibly compete with his studies. "It won't, mother, I promise. The moment I get out of college I'll marry the prettiest girl I can find. You'll see your grandchildren, no need to worry." He said it flippantly, trying to get her to smile. She was worrying over nothing. He'd show her that. He'd find some way or some woman and show everyone that he could love and be loved as a husband and wife should.

She smiled softly, patting his shoulder. "My dear son. You'll worry me to death before then." He wrapped her into a hug, which seemed like the only thing he could do that might possibly be of any comfort to her. It also hid his expression from her, which he feared would give away all his secrets and fears. She hugged him back, squeezing tight. He felt her crying before he heard it. The way her shoulders shook made his chest tight, and he was soon blinking back tears of his own. He held her close, wishing he could be better, that he was less of a disappointment. The bitter sting of helplessness was one he knew too well. It happened after every physical education class, and nearly every time he went out with his friends. He felt that he was weak and wrong, and making his poor mother terribly unhappy. He was making himself unhappy. It was ridiculous to continue with these horrible desires. Not only was he risking his future, but he could be jailed if he acted on his urges.

Her crying eased quickly, but her calm did not extend to him. He shivered and handed his mother his handkerchief, wiping away his own tears with his hand. "I'm so sorry, mother. I truly am. I will marry when I am out of college. I promise you this." His voice was shaking with fear and dread when he spoke those words. Even as they left his lips he knew they were a lie, just as he had known they were a lie the first time. He wouldn't marry, and he would not find a woman to have children with. He hoped she would not react poorly when she understood the truth. He hoped he could forgive himself for losing one of the things he wanted most in life.

His mother nodded, straightening the lapels of his jacket. "I hope so, dear child. You deserve the love of a wonderful woman." She dried her eyes and tucked his handkerchief into her sleeve.

Robert smiled, though it broke his heart to do so. "I already have that, mother. I'm just looking for a woman even half as wonderful as you." Flattery might smooth the rough edges left by his lies. It was almost the last tool he had to placate his mother and dodge his own guilt.

Her smile was beautiful, but it hurt him as well. He'd lied to make her happy, and she would be even more sad when she realized the deception. He had no answer for his problem. The best he could hope for was short term peace. It would have to do.


	3. Learning One's Place

The typical groups were all present and accounted for. Rosalind suppressed a sigh as she was led past one acquaintance after another, trying her best to appear graceful and moderately interested when people spoke to her. She'd taken to counting in base sixteen during these conversations. It gave her that attractive look of daydreaming and protected her brain from absorbing one morsel of useless information about people's pets or children. She understood that those things were important to those people, and she understood their desire to talk about them. She simply did not care about the speakers, and cared even less about people she had never met. Her parents did their best to engage her at first, but these attempts largely led to smart remarks from Rosalind which did none of them any social favors. Now they largely left her to her own devices, which meant sneaking off frequently to read scraps of her book or make notes about some new thought she'd had.

She was surprised when they directed her toward a table where a rather large, hairy man was dominating the conversation. She picked out the topic he was speaking on almost immediately and her hands clutched each other tightly. He was talking about physics. Her heart beat faster and she licked her lips, remembering only after her lipstick coated her tongue that she should refrain from doing that.

She moved forward on her own initiative, taking a seat at the table. The men turned toward her and she nodded to them all, greeting the ones she knew by name first. The men shifted in discomfort at her breach of unspoken etiquette, but Rosalind pointedly ignored that. She turned her eyes toward the man who had been speaking, almost too nervous and excited to breathe.

The man spoke up with no prompting from her. "Ah, young miss. So bold." He sounded like he vaguely disapproved, and Rosalind shook herself out of her stupor. She didn't want to be rejected, not this time. She was going to try to win this one, so she could talk about the things she truly loved. Having another mind that might equal hers was so exciting she couldn't bear it.

Of course, she was still a fifteen year old girl, so rather than articulate that thought she said, "I only wished to listen as you spoke. Would you have me stand instead, looming over you like a cloud?" She crossed her arms, smiling in satisfaction with her answer. She was glad to have something to say without pausing. It would show how well her mind worked, that she was quick witted and clever.

The man looked even less amused than before, but he nodded in agreement. "I am not used to seeing women with an interest in science. I'm a professor and I rarely see even a hint of a woman walking past my classroom." He looked at her as though he was cataloguing her. She took stock of him as well. Big bushy beard, thick, dark hair. He was dressed in well made but slightly cheap looking clothing. Her parents would consider him an adequate but disappointing match. His expression disturbed her, and she realized that she agreed with their assessment rather quickly. He lingered too long over her chest. No man had been so blatantly lewd at her before. He even licked his lips, though perhaps that was just to clear the last of his drink off them before he poured another in his mouth.

She sat up straighter, her blue eyes locking onto his. She imagined herself a queen, able to command and dismiss those at the table at her leisure. None seemed inclined to get involved one way or another. She assumed then that they didn't like the supposed professor. She understood why. "I'm certain you'd notice if a woman went past your door from the way your eyes are becoming acquainted with the beadwork of my bodice."

His jaw set for a moment, and she wondered what he would do. He drank, which made Rosalind like him even less. Her father was a saint when he was sober, and a demon when drunk. There was no possible chance she'd ever find this man attractive, no matter how much he spoke of physics. "You're not like other women." His tone made his disapproval clear. "I could teach you a thing or two, I bet." His tone became darker and Rosalind wondered if he'd intended the words to be threatening or not. Why on Earth had her parents directed her toward this table? Did they think a mutual love of science was enough for her to agree to marry this man?

"If you wanted the company of other women you'd be over there where they are sitting." Rosalind waved a hand in the direction of the hens that were already chirping about some foolishness or other, hiding their words behind fans and gloved hands. The insult was merely implied, but she knew he'd catch it.

She smirked a little when his reaction proved her right. It was so refreshing to be able to insult someone with such a light touch. "You think you're smart?" He asked. It was a clear sign of defeat. Rosalind nearly clapped with glee. She was as capable of inspiring irritation and anger in others as she was her mother. That was quite an accomplishment.

"I do think, which makes me smarter than most. Do you disagree with my assessment, or would you prefer to think you'd been tongue tied by a stupid woman?" She folded her hands in her lap, leaning ever so slightly forward. The occupants of the table were like Wimbledon spectators, looking from one participant to the other to see who would drop the ball.

"I think you're not as smart as you'd like to be or you'd be talking about something beside yourself." He shrugged, pouring his glass full again. It was his turn to smirk at her, his bushy eyebrows raised in challenge. He drank half the glass in one go, a motion so effortless Rosalind assumed it was honed by copious practice. Her revulsion for him deepend.

"You've offered me little of interest to discuss beyond myself. However, if you wish to guide the conversation feel free to do so. Teach me, if you can." Her own eyebrow arched and she sat back again, her arms crossed over her chest.

The man laughed at her. She bristled at it, seething quietly as his braying filled the room and drew all eyes to their table. Rosalind felt herself blushing at that attention, her eyes fixed on the man, smouldering with hate. How dare he belittle her? Worse was the silence that pervaded the room otherwise, ensuring that there would be no interruption of his obnoxious laughter until it ceased on its own.

His laughter tapered off into chuckles and he leaned forward to speak to her. "Little girl, I would teach you so many things." He eyed her again, then turned to the man to his right, his eyes leaving Rosalind entirely. He started to speak to the bewildered man about the recent races as though nothing had happened. The dismissal was evident, and _everyone was still watching._

Rosalind rose gracefully from her chair, brushing the wrinkles out of her skirt. She strode through the hallway, followed closely by her mother. She made it outside before anyone could stop her, which was a blessing. Rosalind nearly ran down the drive toward the street, stopping only when her mother yelled her name.

Rosalind froze in her tracks, then turned slowly. She let her mother catch up, though she was loathe to do so. "I'm sorry, Rosalind. We didn't know he'd be so deep in his cups. Your father said he seemed a decent chap." The apology sounded sincere, and Rosalind had no reason to doubt its veracity. No matter what her mother thought of her love for science Rosalind knew that her mother would never put her in a situation to be treated that way on purpose.

Rosalind wanted to be snotty, and felt she had that right. She just didn't have the energy for it. "Did you really want me to like him?" She asked, her voice high and strained with exasperation. "He's a fool, no matter who gave him a degree that he thinks says otherwise." Her voice was wavering more than she wanted, so she took deep breaths to calm herself.

Her mother put her arm around her, and Rosalind let her shoulders slump. They stood in silence for a moment, Rosalind leaning on her mother, taking solace in her embrace. "Men are too much trouble, mother. Why couldn't I have a horse instead? A horse is at least useful, and when it is no longer serviceable I may shed a tear over it. I don't think I'd ever mourn a husband's passing."

Her mother sighed, tipping Rosalind's chin upward until they saw eye to eye. "Not all men are like that, dear child. I wish this could be easier for you." She kissed Rosalind's cheek, and Rosalind saw her mother with new eyes. Once her mother had been her age. Had she mourned her own marriage prospects? Had she even fought against the system that held her in bondage, born to be subservient to men and their desires? It was a startling thought.

She placed her hand on her mother's face, sighing softly. "I don't want this, mother. Please don't make me marry. I want to use my mind, not labor as you do for a husband who is one bottle away from terror."

Her mother turned her head away from Rosalind's hand and turned her back on the girl. "There's only two ends for a woman, dear child. Marriage or whoring. Why fight the inevitable? Find a gentle man and try to live well. There is nothing else for you, no happiness in the road you want to walk."

"I don't want happiness, mother. I want knowledge." She spoke quietly, then went toward the house again. "We should return. Father will be looking for us. It would be unwise for us to be gone long, lest our hostess think we took offense at the oaf's demeanor toward me."

Her mother nodded, offering her arm to Rosalind. "Clearly he's not enough of a chaperone. We'll find some quiet place and fend off the gossipmongers when they inevitably set up on you. I'm afraid you'll soon have no choice but to accept life as a spinster."

Rosalind squeezed her mother's arm, nodding in agreement. "It seems to be that way. I apologize. I've not been. . . satisfactory as a daughter. I would have made a better son."

Her mother laughed a little, patting Rosalind's hand. "You would have, but I have gracefully decided to love you despite your flaws, dear child."

Rosalind didn't bother to disguise her laughter. The burning shame and anger melted away. This was a new aspect to her mother's personality, and one Rosalind found quite refreshing. "Are you upset at me for arguing?"

"Dreadfully." Her mother said, with a nod. "However, better to find out now that a man is unworthy than later. You're an adult now, I can't force you to be what you're not. The choices you've made are irrevocable, and you seem more than happy to suffer the consequences. What rod do I have to beat you into submission if dying alone holds no sting?" There was resignation in Mrs. Lutece's voice, but now they were too near the house for Rosalind to reply.

She settled her face into her pleasant, empty expression, but rather than counting to G she mulled over what her mother had said. Would she die alone? Was science worth running that risk? She might find happiness in a man down the line. She wasn't immune to their physical charms, after all. She just wished they were as handsome inside as out.

She made her rounds of the room, greeting the women she knew before retiring to a couch with her mother to while away the evening. She didn't want to die alone, she decided. It was just the lesser evil of the options presented to her.

* * *

Robert smiled across the table at his dinner partner. She was an objectively lovely young woman named. . . probably Britanny. He was almost sure of it. Her father was a. . . something to do with India. He couldn't be quite sure. He knew she had dark hair and large blue eyes. They were lovely eyes, and he felt the fires of hope stirring within himself. Perhaps he could love her. Her skin was pale and looked soft. When she smiled (which she did often), it made him think that she was truly enjoying herself, rather than just doing so because it was expected. She was a good dancer as well, though he'd only had the pleasure once that evening. He'd thought to ask for another, but it had slipped his mind. She ate like a bird, pecking at this or that, not really focusing on her meal. This he found unattractive, but he said nothing. It wasn't his place to question why she ate in this manner. He pushed aside his annoyance and worked on his own plate. He was hungry so he worked at it at a steady pace, rarely joining in the dinner conversation.

When the food finished the women took their leave while a maid saw to the table. He only saw maids at parties like these, and he found them to be more interesting than their employers, usually. He admired them for their hard work and their obvious strength of character. To care for someone they were not related to, even for money, made them good people. He imagined that they must all have fascinating stories, and wished it would not be indecorous for both participants if he drew one aside to speak to her.

Robert stood and went to follow the men outside when the young woman across the table (Bethany, certainly Bethany), put her hand on his arm. He turned to her and smiled, watching her smile in return. "Robert, you've been so quiet. I hope you aren't weary of my company." She looped her arm in his, and he understood that he would not be joining the men this evening unless he found a way to disengage her.

His voice was smooth and consoling when he spoke, and he patted her hand softly. "Of course not. I apologize if my behavior made you think that. I have been thinking a lot recently about my college prospects." He was nervous about that. He had a stack of instructions for scholarship essays sitting on his desk, waiting to be attended to. It was a partial truth. He felt that was the only kind of truth he could tell anymore. He just couldn't admit to the fact that her touch on his arm was nowhere near as interesting to him as the petty assault he engaged in with his male colleagues. A knot began to form in his stomach, his nervous reaction to the threat of potential exposure.

The woman nodded, leading him to a couch in the adjacent room. He waited for her to seat herself before placing himself at the opposite end, so they were no longer touching. She eyed the space between them, her smile faltering a little. He wasn't sure what to make of that, but she didn't give him time to remind her of the need for decorum. "What do you hope to study?"

He latched onto the subject like a desperate man flailing at the driftwood of his sinking ship. His voice was very animated and he turned slightly toward her, his eyes bright with nerves and almost manic glee at being able to talk about his studies. "I'm hoping to be a physicist. I want to see the inner workings of the universe and learn how it works. I can imagine no greater challenge or more worthy endeavor than discerning the nature of the mysteries of the universe."

She smiled, scooting closer to him. She was still not touching him directly, but she was close enough that he could do so with little effort. "Ah, so that's what you look like when you're passionate about something." Her tone was teasing with a hint of. . . something else. Robert wasn't quite sure what. She was leaning forward quite a bit, so much so that she had to crane her neck upward. He thought it didn't look terribly comfortable, and her dress made it appear that she was imminent danger of exposure in that position.

He smiled at her, but it felt brittle even to him, an inadequate mask for his confusion and nerves. What was she doing? This sort of bold display wasn't ladylike. He couldn't glance around the room to see if they were being observed without giving her great offense and drawing more attention to the situation. He gently patted her hand, his eyes staying firmly above her neck. Just because she was presenting herself did not mean he had to take advantage. It was the gentlemanly thing to do. "I beg your pardon." He said, leaning back slightly. "I was unaware that you were attempting to-" He paused, feeling a hot blush creep over his face as he fully understood the things happening around and to him. "This isn't proper. I have no wish to take advantage of the situation." He put his hand out, intending to very gently push her backward, out of that horribly compromising position.

She leaned back on her own and his hand touched her breast instead. He jerked away as though he'd been burned by the contact. The girl gasped, putting her hand over her mouth. Across the room an elderly matron yelled, making Robert turn his head so quickly he risked whiplash. "What do you think you're doing?"

The girl covered her chest with her hands and Robert floundered for a moment, his mouth opening and closing, but not sound leaving it. His face was burning. He was certain his skin was at least as red as his hair, if not more so. He stood hastily, dashing toward the comfort and safety of the men talking on the lawn. High pitched chatter chased him out the door, and he had the momentary fear of being chased by the women and drowning in a sea of taffeta and perfume while the women tried to tear him apart for his accidental slight.

The men looked up at him, many eyebrows raised. Some of the younger men nodded knowingly, and one poured him a glass of port. Robert accepted it gratefully, taking a seat. The men's conversation returned to something or other. Robert wasn't paying attention. He was just grateful to be back in familiar territory. He sipped his drink slowly, having no intention to become intoxicated. After a few moments his calm returned and he breathed a slow sigh of relief.

The young man who'd poured the port laughed a little. "I'm sorry for whatever happened in there. My sister is far too forward. If she gets caught she plays innocent well enough, but the only people who are still fooled by her displays are Gran and sometimes mother."

Robert felt more at ease with that assurance. Robert was also quite glad the man didn't want to harass him for his impropriety with his sister. "It was an accident, I'm sure. She was a pleasant conversation partner until things got out of hand." It was best to be magnanimous. There was no sense in pressing the matter, though he dearly wished she would be exposed if she'd truly tricked him into that position.

The young man laughed and shook his head. "You keep that attitude and you'll have women using you for the rest of your life. You have to take a firm hand with them, you know." This mode of conversation was typical for the men that Robert knew, but it was still uncomfortable. Even worse was the fact that these things were being said after an incident with his sister. He felt that family should refrain from speaking ill of other members of the family.

"I'm certain you're right." Robert said, though his tone made it clear he meant the exact opposite. He turned toward the center of the men and attempted to engage in their conversation, while sipping his port. The dismissal made the man next to him bristle for a moment, but Robert would rather be thought rude than engage in any kind of family argument between the man and his sister.

The rest of the evening was uneventful, until his father came to collect him to go home. His mother was already in the carriage when they arrived, wrapped tight in her shawl. She nodded to Robert when he stepped in, watching as his father wove his way to the driver's seat. Robert worried about his father's ability to drive in his current state, but years of living with the man made him keep his silence. He clasped his hands in his lap, trying not to to dwell on his terrible evening.

His mother looked. . . pleased. He wasn't sure what to make of that. She was smiling at him, seemingly unbothered by the cursing that filtered back from the driver's bench. He smiled back at her, though he couldn't put his heart behind the expression. He was just too confused by everything.

"She's very pretty." His mother said, and Robert felt his stomach turn to lead. His mother knew, or thought she knew what had happened. She was. . . pleased by that. He felt revolted for a moment, then quite sad. He'd never intentionally do something so rude. Why was she so happy? "I saw how she was leaning forward, I'm certain you gave her just want she wanted. She'd be a good match for you, Robert. Her family has a little wealth and they want her to marry someone before her indiscretions get the best of her."

Robert shook his head in response to all that information. His mother wanted him to marry a woman who'd tricked him into touching her. She wanted him to marry her despite her. . . indiscretions. At first it seemed an elegant solution. Perhaps she'd be bold enough to make her desires known even when he did not feel their equal inside himself. A wife who wanted to bed him would be an asset, right?

The thought barely occurred to him before he shut it down, almost shivering in disgust. "Mother, please. She was indeed quite pretty but I want more than a bedwarmer in the person I take for my lifelong companion. I'm not through college yet, a child now would be too much of a distraction to my studies."

"Robert," His mother sounded exasperated and angry. He still felt guilty about his effect on her mood, but it couldn't be helped. "When would you be taking care of the child? That's her job, not yours. You'd be free to study and work, she'd be saved from a terrible life of drudgery, and if your desires do not extend toward the fairer sex you can always ask that she take red haired lovers so the bastards would at least look like you."

For the second time that night Robert was struck speechless, his face and neck hot with the effects of his brilliant blushing. His mouth hung open and he stared at his mother, unable to even process what she'd just accused him of. Of course he was interested in women. Just none of the women he'd ever met. It was natural for a man to enjoy the company of other men. Women were just too strange to be around them for long.

The heavy weight in his stomach grew larger and he became unable to meet his mother's eyes. He turned his face toward the floor, wishing he could die and be done with the hardships of his life. She reached across to him, drawing his eyes up again. "Did you think I couldn't see you struggling, dear child? A mother knows her children better than they know themselves." Her voice was very low. Robert realized that she was keeping this a secret from his father.

Very slowly, he nodded once. "I want to be good." His voice was low as well. He fought against the tears that wanted to escape. There was no time for that. "I want to be what society expects of me. I don't want to be a-"

His mother's fingers stilled his lips before Robert could say the hateful word that he now had to admit applied to him all too well. He looked at his mother, feeling like a child again. He was lost and would never find home. "You'll be a physicist, and someday perhaps you will find a cure for your condition. I just wanted you to understand that I know what is troubling you, and that I want what is best for you." She slid her hand back into her lap, looking at him with a serious expression. "Have you. . . acted-"

"No," Robert said, quickly, shaking his head. "I must keep it hidden if I want to attend college. No man would share a dormitory with me if they knew." He'd resigned himself to that truth long ago. It almost didn't bother him most of the time.

She nodded and the relief on her face was another kilo added to the weight in his stomach. He wondered if she'd disown him if he ever acted on his unclean desires. "Then I will pray for you, dear child."

This annoyed him. He was unused to being annoyed by his mother, so it was hard to accept that feeling for a moment. Finally he said, "If God answered prayers do you think I would still be afflicted? I doubt there's a God at all. If there is a God he is certainly exactly the kind of father you want me to be." He couldn't keep the venom of his anger out of his words, and his mother recoiled as though she'd been slapped.

She turned away from him, shaking her head. He almost apologized, but it would only be out of habit. He pressed his lips together and turned his gaze to the world outside the carriage's window. He was entirely unlike the son she'd wanted. He once wished he could be that man, but he was becoming more and more aware of the fact that he didn't care about that anymore. She would think what she thought regardless of how it affected him, so why shouldn't he behave as he saw fit?


	4. Adulthood

Rosalind sat at the kitchen table, her legs crossed primly at the ankles. She had stacks of paper sitting in front of her, presenting both her current situation and her acceptance letters to prestigious universities. She even won a few scholarships, which made her quite proud. The more evidence she had of her thorough preparation for her future the better, as far as she was concerned. She wouldn't be dismissed this time, dammit. She would be acknowledged and more, she would be victorious.

Her parents came in the kitchen, stopping short when they saw that Rosalind was already up, dressed, and looking up at them expectantly. Her mother cleared her throat and went to start the kettle for tea, only to find that there were teacups already cooling for them both. "You're up to something." Her father's voice startled Rosalind. She hadn't expected him to speak first.

She recovered quickly from her start, looking up at her parents, trying to project confidence even as her nerves started to act up. "I have a proposal for you both. Please have a seat." She motioned to the chairs across the table from her, reminding herself to be cool and calm. She had to state her case logically or else it would likely be ignored or brushed aside as fancy. She had no interest in being dismissed.

Her mother sat, her father stood. That was what Rosalind expected. She cleared her throat and laid out her papers like they were precious silks she was attempting to sell. "I have an acceptance letter from Oxford in my possession, and the scholarships required to attend for one year on campus. I will not marry, despite your admirable attempts to encourage me to do so. My dowry will, therefore, go to waste. I know that you have been setting money aside, hoping to draw a good match with that once my feminine wiles proved to be more or less absent. I would ask that you use that money now to fund my real future." Though she tried to be calm and more or less succeeded, the last sentence came tumbling out hastily. She grateful it was understandable at all.

Both her parents stared at her as she spoke, but she felt she'd made her case well enough. She'd practiced this speech in the mirror a dozen times. She had a few counter arguments prepared, but she hoped she wouldn't need them. She kept her hands on the table, a sign that she was confident and not worried about their reaction or the future. It was a lie, but but that made it all the more necessary.

Her mother's shoulders fell and she looked grim. Rosalind's attention turned entirely toward her father. He was looking at her like she was alien to him. Some strange thing that crawled out of the drainpipe which he wished to be rid of. She was unperturbed by this. He often looked at her like that these days. He had no use for a smart woman. It was unfortunate that many men were like him. He took a deep breath, then sat as well. "What's your plan?"

Rosalind blinked, then switched to a paper where she'd written out a five year plan. "My intention is to go through my undergraduate program as quickly as possible to make the best use of the funds. I'll be sitting for tests all year, including the summer. If all goes well I'll be graduating in three years and applying for masters programs. It is my intention to live on campus so I may devote myself to my studies and be as small a burden to you as possible. The small amount of money I make tutoring is enough to feed and clothe me. Once I am well established I may be able to tutor my classmates for a larger fee."

Her father nodded, taking the paper with her plan and looking it over. "You've put a lot of thought into this. Is this truly what you want? A man's world is a dangerous place and most women would not be able to compete in that sphere."

Rosalind pressed her lips together, then tilted her head up and spoke again. "If I am to fail, father, then I shall fail on my own terms. I would make a poor housewife, but I may make a good physicist." She tried to keep her composure, but she was so anxious she thought she might throw up. Her parents' support meant something to her, despite her best efforts to the contrary. It especially galled her that despite her clear picture of forethought and composure her father thought of her first as a woman and then (perhaps) as a capable adult.

Her father looked over the paper again, then up at Rosalind. "If you have the funds to last your first year, then you should pursue that. It's a good place to meet a husband who is on your intellectual level. I think that you'll understand your place in the world after that year." He handed the paper back and turned his eyes to his cup of tea which had cooled sufficiently to be consumed.

She knew how he intended the comment. He assumed she would be begging for a man to marry her before the first round of testing. She nodded, keeping herself steady, though she wanted to jump for joy. "If my place is at university?" She asked, unable to keep the nervous tension from her voice.

Her father inclined his head but did not look up at her. "Then you would indeed make a poor housewife and your education would be a better use of your dowry." He shrugged one shoulder and took another drink of his tea.

Rosalind stood quickly, rushing around the table to hug her father. The motion surprised everyone in the room, including her. She even went so far as to kiss his cheek, laughing joyfully. She felt that a great weight had been lifted from her shoulders. She would show them the sincerity of her devotion to science. They would understand what she would give and do to respected in her field. She would outman every male she met if that was the requirement.

Her father accepted her hugging for a moment, then gently eased her off his shoulders. "Let me have my tea in peace, woman. I have arrangements to make when this meal is over."

Rosalind nodded and backed away, smiling so wide her face hurt from the effort. "Of course. Please enjoy your breakfast. I have correspondence I'd like to post as soon as possible." She collected her papers and dashed off.

* * *

Robert finished packing his bags, glancing around his room one last time. He'd inhabited this room for all of his life, at least the entire portion of it that he could remember. It looked so empty without his effects in it. The furniture was still present, waiting for him to get his own home to store it in. His bed would house one of his own children if he managed to have them. That felt right, like it was completing some kind of important cycle.

He felt oddly choked up about leaving the place. He'd be back over the summers, it wasn't like he was leaving forever. He just wouldn't be the same when he came back. In a way the old him was dying, and a new one being born in that boy's place. He hoped that man would be better, that he would learn from all the childish errors and go on to do worthy things, things that would justify his ideas of himself as a smart, productive individual.

His father came into the room and Robert straightened, his hands clutched nervously at his side. His mother inspired feelings of love and guilt, but his father inspired wariness. He never knew what he was getting with the old man. Mr. Lutece could be the best of men and he could be the worst of devils. He felt the muscles in his shoulders bunching, prepared to fight his way out if he needed to. It was irrational, really. He'd never hit his father. It got worse with even the slightest sign of defiance and one broken arm was enough for a lifetime.

"You've grown up, son." The older man's voice was steady and he enunciated with careful clarity. Robert let out the breath he'd been holding, nodding in response to the observation. When things were bad they were usually bad right from the start. He hoped that once he was gone his father might stop drinking as much. Perhaps they'd all work through their issues when they were equals.

"Thank you, father. I hope I will make you and mother proud with my accomplishments." It was the truth, though that was a secondary concern to appeasing his own desire for knowledge. He still remembered his dream and those reflections stretching to infinity. Having another version of himself to speak to would be most helpful. He was smarter than many of his peers and wished to converse with someone who had the same focus as himself.

His father nodded, looking around the room. They didn't talk much. Between the older man's career, Robert's schooling, and Mr. Lutece's penchant for drink they were nearly always seeing each other only in passing. Robert hoped that when he had children he would be more present in their lives. He wanted them to know the love of both their parents, and never fear that he would raise a hand to them. He didn't care how spoiled they became.

The awkward moment seemed to last an eternity. The old man cleared his throat and straightened his lapels. "I think you will. You- you remind me of her, in a way. It was her mind that attracted me first, you know." Robert couldn't help but stare as his father smiled. It was rare that Mr. Lutece did so. Robert assumed he was unhappy, but could not fathom why. "I'm pleased you took after her." His father nodded at the end, then turned toward the door. "Hurry up, we want to take a photograph before you go and the photographer will be arriving soon."

Robert smiled as well, nodding at his father. "Yes, of course. I'll be out shortly. Just my last notes to pack." He motioned to his open valise and the papers on his desk. He intended to do some drawing on the train and wanted his materials handy, and of course his notes if drawing became tiresome.

The older man nodded again and left, somewhat more in a rush than Robert expected. Perhaps he'd gotten his intelligence from his mother, but he was beginning to suspect he got his social skills from his father. He wondered how he would treat an intelligent wife, if he was lucky enough to get one. He thought he'd do a better job of keeping her happy than his father had. He didn't see how he could avoid it, really.

He looked around one last time at his room then nodded to himself. He had endless opportunities in front of him. He would make the most of them or perish in the attempt. He would learn from his mistakes and the mistakes of others. He would be better than the sum of his parts. He had to be.


	5. Unfairness Intensifies

Rosalind laughed as she separated from her roommate. She watched the future nurse bounce off toward her math class. Lauren was a bright woman and Rosalind approved of her intensely. They had long conversations about their goals when they graduated. They were both committed to careers with passionate intensity. Rosalind was under the impression her roommate fancied her, but that was pleasant in its own way. Of course that could easily be her own arrogance, so of course she never said anything. It would be too embarrassing to be either wrong or right, anyway. Lauren often spoke of finding love but Rosalind dreaded the very thought of it.

She looked up at the building that contained her first physics class. She took a moment to admire it, her heart pounding in her chest. She gripped her books tight to her chest, wondering if Lauren had laced her up too tight. She didn't think she'd ever be able to take this for granted. She'd worked so hard to get here, and now she was about to enjoy the rewards for that labor. The fact that the reward was more work didn't bother her a bit. She couldn't wait to get started on her new life as a scientist.

She opened the door and went inside, striding purposefully down the hallway. She checked her schedule against the room numbers, pausing in front of the correct class. When she stepped into the room her knees felt weak. This was the cornerstone of the tower that would be her adult life. This was the beginning of something wonderful. Today she would finally start down the path she'd dreamed of walking most of her life.

She took her seat and withdrew a pencil from her bag. Her hands shook a little, but she was so excited she couldn't get the motion under control. There were other students in the room, but Rosalind didn't even spare them a glance. She didn't care if they noticed her or not. She was too happy to be there for any of them to make her feel inadequate or nervous.

Her effervescent joy and excitement dried up when the teacher entered the room. She recognized him immediately. The dark beard and his merciless dark eyes had haunted her dreams for nearly a week after her encounter with him at a party. Her stomach tightened and hre breakfast threatened to escape. *_This*_ was her teacher?

Her mood only worsened when his gaze met hers. He gave her a smirk, then went to the blackboard and outlined his class rules. Rosalind did her best to take good notes but she worried the whole time that this man would cause her problems. It seemed inevitable. She knew a great deal about teachers and their methods, and his struck her as being very arrogant, probably even narcissistic.

The bell was a huge relief. Rosalind packed herself up and waited patiently for the other students to file out. She had no intention of getting into a shoving match with the young men. Now that she'd been broken out of her happy place she saw that many of them were giving her strange looks. She sighed softly, rising to her feet when the room was nearly empty.

"Not so fast, Miss Lutece." His voice was loud enough that some of the boys in the hall turned to glance back into the room. Rosalind turned toward the teacher, clutching her books so tight her hands hurt. "Come to the front of the room. I want to speak to you."

She thought about ignoring the command. It wasn't his place to order her around once class was over. However, she assumed her life would be easier if she made attempts at complying with simple commands. It rankled her to give him that power, but there was no help for it. She turned to march to the front of the classroom, her face locked into a cool, distant mask to hide her rage and fear.

Mr. West was at least a foot taller than Rosalind and he loomed over her when she approached. She kept her hands on her books and her books tight against her stomach. Something told her that she didn't want to put herself into a position where he could grab her. "I'm quite surprised to see you, Miss Lutece. I didn't think you had it in you to get this far."

Rosalind stood up as straight as she could, her expression set into that hard, protective mask. "I shall get much farther than this." It was all she felt she needed to say to him. She had no intention of failing, and she saw no reason she should do so.

The teacher laughed that horrible braying laugh again. Rosalind amused herself with the thought of hitting him over the head with the '_Introduction to Physics'_ book. He probably wouldn't see it coming. Still, it was best not to act. She couldn't afford to be expelled.

"I'm going to test you, little girl. You think you're so smart? We'll see how smart you are. I'm going to enjoy making you fail." His words were full of venom and malice. Rosalind wondered what she'd done to deserve such attention. She knew the answer already. She'd done nothing. This was him being an asshole because he could, or because he enjoyed it, or because he didn't like women. She couldn't stop him from being an asshole, and it seemed she'd have to tolerate it.

"You can try." She conceded with a slight nod of her head. "I welcome the challenge, in fact. The test is standardized so you can't give me an unfair disadvantage going into it. You want to prove to me how stupid I am? Feel free. I will rise above anything you do to bring me down." She let her mask fall away in bits and pieces as she spoke, her eyes lighting up with passion, her voice rising in volume with each word. She relaxed her stance, letting her right hand loose from her books so she could make a grand, sweeping motion toward the blackboard. "If you have something to teach me, Professor West, then do so."

He stared at her for a second as though he was stunned speechless. Rosalind stared back at him, her chest heaving. All that emotion and speaking so loudly had made her short of breath. He shut his mouth and turned away from her, packing his briefcase. "I will. We'll see whose will is stronger, Miss Lutece."

She nodded, turning toward the door and marching away. "I don't have to beat you. I just have to learn from you. *_You*_ have to beat *_me*_." She walked out of the classroom and kept marching until she reached the outside.

Once she was outside she leaned against the outer wall. Manic giggles bubbled up in her chest and throat and she had no way to contain them. She laughed long and loud, feeling giddy and horrified at what had just transpired. She couldn't believe she'd just told off a teacher so thoroughly and she couldn't believe she'd actually dared him to make her life hell. She hoped Lauren would find it as amusing as she did. She'd very much need her roommate's support.

* * *

Professor West's office hours were quite convenient for Robert. His French class ended right before office hours began, so he was able to make his way to the office at his leisure. He didn't need much help, but for some reason he'd always had trouble understanding centripetal force. There was another student in line before him when he arrived, so Robert took a seat and began to work on some homework while he waited.

He wasn't waiting long. The man who got there first left in a huff, pulling Robert out of his conjugations. He frowned slightly as the man slammed the office door. That was rude. Professor West had come off as a somewhat abrasive fellow but Robert couldn't imagine having that kind of reaction. He closed his French book and stood.

The professor rounded the corner and called him back just as he got to his feet. Professor West studied Robert for a moment. The expression was strange. Robert felt as though he was being assessed. He wasn't sure he enjoyed it, but he had no intention of taking offense. He had a question he needed answered. "Hello, Professor. I was wondering if you or your aide had a moment to go over yesterday's lesson with me? I need a little more help with centripetal force."

The professor nodded and led the way back into his office. He held the door for Robert and motioned to a couch next to his desk. This seemed irregular to Robert, who had expected another hard backed chair like those in the waiting room. It would be difficult to work out any problems without a table to write on. "Have a seat Mr. Lutece. I've been hoping to talk to you, anyway." The professor closed the door and went to take his seat at his desk.

That the teacher wanted to speak to him surprised Robert. He dropped onto the couch with as much grace as he could muster, setting his textbooks on the open space to his right. "Indeed, sir?" He put his hands in his lap, suddenly feeling quite nervous. He hoped his performance was up to snuff.

Professor West nodded and gave Robert another thorough once over. Robert felt himself blushing a little. He'd admired the professor a little. He found dark hair to be attractive, and the older man's neatly clipped beard was quite pleasant. It enhanced his face and made him look the part of a professor. It was the man's large hands that Robert liked best of all. He found himself looking at them, and he licked his lips nervously. "You stand out with all that red hair."

Robert's stomach sank a little. He felt like his coloring was the bane of his existence. "So I have been told, sir." He didn't like his hair color one bit. It was not a good color for a man. The freckles made it even worse. His athletic childhood had taken its toll on his complexion. He looked down just enough to put the professor out of his line of sight. He didn't think he could bear to be teased about his looks by this man.

The professor tapped his pencil on the desk. "Are you familiar with '_Leaves of Grass'_?" The question took Robert by surprise. He frowned and glanced up at the professor, trying to decide what bearing that had on the conversation. He felt completely at a loss.

"I beg your pardon sir. The book of poetry Whitman produced?" He almost asked what that had to do with physics but then he saw the professor's expression. It looked. . . hungry. He'd seen that expression before, but never simultaneously on a man and directed at him. His chest tightened as he met the older man's eyes. He knew his own eyes must be wide as saucers, his mouth hanging slightly open. It only became more shocking when the professor began to recite a poem, his dark eyes staring directly into Robert's lighter ones.

"How they are provided for upon the earth, (appearing at intervals,)  
How dear and dreadful they are to the earth,  
How they inure to themselves as much as to any—what a paradox  
appears their age,  
How people respond to them, yet know them not,  
How there is something relentless in their fate all times,  
How all times mischoose the objects of their adulation and reward,  
And how the same inexorable price must still be paid for the same  
great purchase."

The words rolled off the man's tongue and Robert found himself nearly entranced by the cadence of the man's words and the way his lips moved as he spoke. He thought for a moment of a small mammal being hypnotized by a snake. His hands slid to his sides, gripping the cushion of the couch tightly.

The professor stood and came around the desk again. He moved Robert's books to an adjacent table and took the spot they had previously occupied. "I thought you might be a fan of poetry, Rob." His voice was low and soft. Robert leaned in a little on instinct to be sure he heard the words correctly.

Robert's mouth felt so dry and he trembled slightly. He didn't know exactly what was happening, but he hoped it wouldn't stop. "Whitman is a genius, sir. I didn't think you'd be as interested in his work."

The professor laughed once. It sounded rich and musical to Robert's ears. A shiver struck down his back and he felt himself becoming aroused. He worried that the professor would see and judge him for it, but they were so close that it would be impossible to adjust himself covertly. "Sir, eh? I like that. Keep calling me that, Rob." The professor tilted Robert's chin upward slightly. He had somewhat rough hands. When the professor stroked his calloused thumb over Robert's lips the younger man couldn't contain his reaction. A soft moan slipped out and his arousal went from potentially embarrassing to almost painful.

When the older man closed the distance between them and kissed Robert it felt like electricity was shooting through every nerve in his body. Robert shuddered under the alien sensations, his knees jerking lightly. The kiss was brief and soft, lasting perhaps half a second. Robert was still breathless and blushing when it ended. He sat there in a daze for a moment. His brain scrambled to accept that he now lived in a reality where he'd kissed his physics professor. When he came around he met the older man's eyes again,reaching out to tentatively touch the man's face. The wiry hairs of the professor's beard felt strange under his fingertips. "I still need help understanding centripetal force, sir."

Professor West laughed again. Robert's body reacted with violent enthusiasm. He wanted desperately to pleasure himself while listening to the professor talk about poetry or physics or whatever the man might care to talk about. He felt a need unlike any he'd ever experienced before. "We'll go over it, Rob. Meet me for dinner tonight and we'll discuss whatever you like afterward."

Robert watched as the older man wrote down his address. Those hands had filled a fantasy or two before. Now Robert was certain he would never need to fantasize about anything else again. When he took the address from the older man his own hands were shaking. The professor lifted one and planted a kiss on the knuckles. His bristly facial hair caressed the smooth skin of Robert's fingers and hand and he felt another jolt of electricity. He carefully tucked the address in his pocket, then took a deep breath and tried to speak. "When?" He was breathless and the word came out as barely a whisper.

"Six pm. Don't be late." The older man stood and went to the door. Robert couldn't help that his eyes traveled entirely down the professor's body. The younger man's eyes fixed squarely on the tented portion of the older man's pants. Once again Robert's mouth felt dry and his mind went off on wicked tangents without consulting him.

When Robert stood his legs wobbled like those a newborn colt. He barely trust himself to get out the door, much less back to his dorm. The pressure and friction of his pants was almost cruel, but he took a deep breath and tried to force his mind to other things. "Th-thank you sir. I will be punctual." He wobbled toward the door, nodding once to the older man. He wasn't even sure this was the real world anymore. It felt like a fantasy, and a particularly good one at that. He left the office in a daze, repeating the phrase, "six pm, don't be late," over and over to himself as he left.


	6. Beginners

The day could not be more perfectly beautiful. Rosalind spread out on their blanket in the grass, basking in the warmth of the sun and the perfect company. Lauren was laying on her stomach, tying clover stems together to make a crown for herself. Rosalind turned her head to watch, a smile playing over her face. After the winter and their exams the women had been quick to pack a picnic basket the moment they were released for spring break. It was good fortune that the sun was shining that day. If there was a heaven Rosalind imagined it would be no more perfect that this day and moment.

Lauren sat up and placed the crown of flowers on her head, smiling brightly at Rosalind. "Does it suit me?" She posed playfully, like the women on the posters for musical shows of dubious moral quality. It was charming, Rosalind decided. Lauren was a beautiful woman, with hair the color of rich earth and eyes that matched the grass around them almost exactly. Lauren had many suitors, and most seemed to be of high quality. Sometimes Rosalind was just a little bit jealous of that. Whether she was jealous of the attention Lauren received or of the attention she gave Rosalind did not dare to contemplate. It was bad enough to be jealous at all.

Rosalind sat up as well, crossing her legs at the ankles and nodding at Lauren. "It does. You look beautiful, as always. Will you be going out with Thomas tonight?" Rosalind had to admit that she liked Lauren's primary suitor. He was a serious man with a good head for math which made his accounting classes a good match for his personality. She liked that Lauren was dating someone with a good head on his shoulders. Lauren was the first woman Rosalind had met that she felt she could truly call a friend and equal. She deserved a fine man and appeared to have gotten one.

Lauren shook her head, pouring out the last of their shared bottle of wine between their glasses. "No. He is returning to Scotland for the holiday. His sister is expecting and he wants to see her again before the child is born." She picked up her glass and sipped her wine, smiling softly. "The care he shows for his sister is quite charming, I think. It bodes well for his prospects as a husband."

That was the only point of difference between Rosalind and Lauren. Rosalind saw no reason why Lauren would want to commit herself to anyone before her career even began. Lauren saw no reason for Rosalind to hold herself so aloof from all the men in existence. It was a subject they tended to avoid. For Lauren to mention it now signaled to Rosalind that it was weighing on her mind. "Perhaps it does. You'll finish your studies, I hope." There was no sense in trying to talk someone out of marriage. Rosalind just hoped her friend would make a sensible choice about timing.

Lauren thought for a moment, then nodded. "Yes. He will want to have a home before we marry, so we will both have ample time to finish our studies." She took a drink of her wine and Rosalind couldn't help but let her gaze linger on those beautiful red lips as they became stained dark with wine. "Rosalind, they way you go on about you act as though I will die if I am married before I have my degree." Lauren's tone was teasing, but her expression was somewhat serious.

Rosalind nodded and sighed a little. "Do you feel that you would not? I can't imagine letting anything get in the way of my goals, not even love." iEspecially/i not love when it came down to it. Physical charms and the occasional exception aside men seemed an unreliable sort. Of course, she'd thought women were irrational and ridiculous until she met Lauren. She assumed her attitude would change when she met someone adequate for her needs.

Lauren sighed softly but said nothing for a moment. She finished her wine and motioned toward Rosalind's glass. "You hardly drink, you seem to take no pleasure in anything other than food and studying. Perhaps you should got out with Franklin? The poor man has been nothing but kind and gentle toward you and he'd quite handsome."

Rosalind blushed a little when she thought about Franklin. What Lauren said was true. He was quite intelligent on top of all those glowing qualities. He too had green eyes and the most deliciously large hands. He played guitar quite well. Rosalind tried not to make it obvious, but was was careful to always be in a position to watch his hands when he played. Sometimes she thought about what they might feel like strumming her body rather than the instrument's, but she couldn't bring herself to talk to him. She didn't know if it was a lack of sincere desire or confidence.

Lauren giggled a little. "Rosa, he'd come if you called. When the break is over we simply must take tea as a group. Perhaps he will bring his guitar and you can sing with him." This time Lauren's teasing tone matched her mischevious expression. "Or did you think I wasn't listening when you began singing in the shower after his impromptu concert when we last studied together? I think he'd admire your voice."

Rosalind laughed, pressing a hand to her chest as though she could contain her mirth. She felt good when Lauren joined in. They laughed together, then sat in companionable silence, each smiling at the other. Rosalind nodded after a moment, taking a deep breath. "I suppose I could stand for that, though I may rely on you and your darling to keep the conversation going."

Lauren smiled brightly, squeezing Rosalind's hand. "Oh, I knew you weren't as cold as you pretend! Of course. We'll be happy to hold your hand while you take your first baby steps into the realm of femaleness. I promise it's not as wretched as you've been led to believe." Lauren giggled again, smiling brightly at Rosalind. "Just imagine how nice it would be to have another physicist to talk to all the time! You'd be able to work with him. Two minds are better than one when puzzling out a problem." Lauren's cheerfulness colored every word. It was pleasant to hear and the picture she painted was not one that Rosalind minded overly much.

She considered the prospect. Spending all day in the laboratory, teasing apart the secrets of the universe. Going home after work and sharing a meal with him, talking about what they'd discovered. Feeling those hands on her back, in her hair, on her breasts. . . Rosalind closed her eyes, imagining it for a moment. It was also pleasant to indulge in the feeling of arousal that fantasy brought. She trusted Lauren to see her in this state. The young, beautiful woman wouldn't mind seeing Rosalind savor such a line of thought.

He would have callouses on his fingertips. The rest of his skin was probably smooth and pale, like her own. She wondered what it would be like to be in bed with him, to be full of him, their bodies twined together. She shivered lightly and opened her eyes again. Her imagination was as vivid as ever, and she ached in places no other person had ever seen or touched. She licked her lips and took a small sip of wine. "You make a good argument." Rosalind conceded, once the mood had passed.

Lauren just laughed, shaking her head in wonder at her friend's foolishness. "Rosa, you might have missed him if not for my assistance. Aren't you lucky to have me in your life?"

Rosalind smiled at Lauren and nodded in agreement. "I am. You've been the best companion and friend I've ever had. I am pleased and proud to know you."

The women smiled at each other again, before settling onto their backs to look up at the clouds. Lauren mentioned when she found a shape she liked in them, but Rosalind was focusing on the shape her future might take. If she could inspire such need in herself with just the thought of a companion it might actually be wise to look closely into the matter. Perhaps her parents had a point after all.

* * *

The afterglow of sex was perhaps as addictive as the act itself. Robert groaned softly as he turned to face Michael, examining the man's body for the hundredth time. It wasn't just that the sex was incredible, it wasn't just that he found himself almost constantly wanting to be close to the older man. What Robert liked best was laying in bed after the fact, discussing the wonders of the universe with his teacher and friend. He was careful not to examine his feelings for Michael. If he looked too deep he might find something that bothered him. Lovely as it was, this could only ever be an illicit affair. They could both go to jail for the glorious, sensual act they had committed together. It was frightening when they were apart, but Robert cared not a whit when they were together.

He moved closer to his teacher, stroking his fingers down the man's back. Michael turned and looked at him. The heat of his gaze felt like a comfortable weight. Robert sighed softly, wrapping himself up in a blanket. "You're quiet," Robert noted. He was used to more talking, but Robert thought they could maintain a companionable silence.

Michael nodded, stroking his fingers over Robert's face. "I want to remember this moment. The school year will be over in a couple months. I'll miss your face when you return home."

Robert smiled, relishing the attention. He chuckled a little and sat up, still wrapped firmly in the blanket. "I thought of that, sir. I had a question to ask. More of a favor, I suppose. I would like to sketch you, if I could. I want to remember this moment as well, and I can think of no better model for a picture." He smiled at his teacher, feeling foolish and breathless with hope that his teacher would say yes.

Michael mulled it over, then gave Robert a wicked smirk. "Have any self-portraits? We could do a trade. One of you for one of me."

Robert laughed a little, shedding the blanket so he could retrieve his sketchbook from his valise. "A few. It's difficult to get a mirror to reflect properly, but I could not ask for a more patient or commited model." He handed the book to his teacher, hoping the older man would appreciate his talents. It was a huge moment of trust for him. He had many secrets and failures wrapped up in that book.

Michael's face took on a stoic, thoughtful expression as he flipped through the book. Robert watched him, eager and breathless with the desire for approval. There were many nudes in there. People were his favorite thing to draw and he'd gone to many classes revolving around the subject. He was confident in his ability to draw the human form, though there would always be room for improvement. Truthfully he felt that each new thing he learned made him like his previous pictures less. He wondered what his last portrait would look like. He hoped it would be of someone he loved.

Michael stopped, blinking at one picture in particular. "Strange pose." He noted, looking at Robert with a smirk. "What were you thinking of when you posed for it?"

Robert blushed when he looked over at the pad. It was a picture of himself he'd done in front of a full length mirror. He was standing, hands at his side (what a tricky beast that pose had been to capture adequately), his chest out, shoulders back, and cock erect. He'd done that drawing a year or so ago, but it had already taken on the quality of old art, which is to be laughed at and learned from rather than admired. "A classmate, sir. We ran track together. I thought often of the view I had when I ran behind him. I made my worst times in races with him. I cared more about the scenery than the goal." He looked away, before he started apologizing for his mistakes. The hands were too large, the chest flat looking, the erection had a strange perspective which made it seem to list much more toward the right than it did in truth.

Michael tore the picture out of the book, nodding in approval. "Is that where those legs come from?" He slid a hand up Robert's thigh, making the younger moan moan in pleasure. Robert was still tired, but he thought he would be prepared for another go by the time they got around to it. He spread his legs further, allowing his teacher better access to both his legs and genitals.

"Yes, sir. I ran and did the long jump, along with other sports as a youth. I was very active." He closed his eyes as Michael's fingers slid over his cock. Being touched like this while he was so recently spent made it strange. It was both highly erotic and incredibly personal. He felt reassured that he meant something more to Michael than a tight arse and eager mouth.

"I bet you were." Michael said, smirking widely. His hand withdrew from Robert and he settled back on the bed, propping himself up on his elbows. "I want to be erect in my portrait as well. Perhaps you could assist me?"

Robert licked his lips, chuckling softly. "It would be my pleasure to suffer such for my art." He slid onto his knees, watching the older man as best he could as he lowered his face down toward the thicket of coarse hair that surrounded the older man's cock. He was as silent as possible, listening for the telltale sound of groaning that would inform him when he was being most effective. He'd feel the reaction against his lips and tongue, of course, but he wanted to experience this in the full spectrum of sensation.

It took many such moments to get the portrait underway. They walked a line together. Michael could not stay hard for overly long without discomfort, but he could also only climax a finite number of times in one day. Robert set himself to the task with great enthusiasm. He hoped his teacher would be pleased with the results.


	7. Life Lessons

Rosalind was studying when Lauren came home from the pub with a woman in her arms. This wasn't the manner in which Rosalind expected that combination of events to occur. The woman (a stranger to Rosalind), looked as though she'd been beaten and her clothing had the look of being hastily dragged on. Rosalind stared in shock, unable to really comprehend what she was seeing. "Rosa, help me get her on the bed."

Rosalind nodded, putting her shoulder under the woman's free arm. They carried the woman to the bed, depositing her as gently as possible. Lauren gently shoved Rosalind out of the way when that was accomplished. The light illuminated the poor woman's face, showing it to be both cut and swelling. "What happened?" Rosalind asked, putting a hand over her mouth to hide her shock at the woman's condition. Her stomach tightened horribly as she contemplated the visible injuries.

"Her date." Lauren said, her expression grim. "He must have distracted her chaperone somehow and dragged her off. The poor old bird asked me to help find her." Lauren spoke in calm, matter of fact tones. "Put your boots on. We need to do something about this." She looked up at Rosalind, her expression certain and determined. Rosalind was reaching for her boots before she ever had a chance to think about what was going on.

Rosalind felt that her life had suddenly gone mad. She shook her head and tugged her boots on, trying to make sense of what she'd heard and all that was happening. "What on Earth are we going to do?" Rosalind asked, her voice quiet. She laced her boots up as she spoke, her fingers fumbling in her haste and shock.

"We're going to treat her and keep the matter private." Lauren explained, her voice still entirely devoid of emotion other than urgency. "We'll get her some sleep and care for her injuries, then make something up if she doesn't remember the act. If she does. . ." For the first time Rosalind saw uncertainty in her roommate's expression. "We'll worry about that when it happens."

Rosalind nodded, taking a deep breath to steady herself. She had to put her own feelings aside to be of help. "What do you need me to do?" She squared her shoulders and convinced herself that she didn't sound as afraid as she felt.

Lauren took a deep breath as well, then straightened her back and smoothed her hair back in place. "Can you move quietly? We'll need to steal some supplies."

Rosalind nodded. "I can do my best." She took Lauren's hand, turning her attention away from the woman on the bed. "Let's go and be done with it." If they had to do something illegal it would be best to get it underway before they remembered what would happen to them if they were caught or failed.

Lauren nodded and picked up a valise, emptying it of her effects. "Follow me."

The women stole out into the night, rushing toward the student hospital when they were outside the building. Rosalind focused on the task at hand, tailing Lauren closely and trying to determine what they'd need. Ice for sure, if they could get it. Bandages. Perhaps something for pain. She knew that she was out of her depth, but putting together a materials list distracted her from the fact that she was witnessing the results of exactly the kind of thing everyone had warned her could happen if she came to college.

The doors to the hospital were always open. Lauren led Rosalind through a back entrance, pausing at the laundry room to get them both aprons and hats. "Stay quiet and if a doctor tells you to do something reply, "yes, sir" and repeat the instruction back to him wrong. I may leave you if that happens, so stall if you can, but take your leave if you think you'll be detected." Lauren had obviously mastered her no-nonsense manner of speaking to people who were in strange emotional states. Rosalind didn't even think to argue with her instructions.

The pair strode down the hallway, grim faced and determined. A doctor nearly stopped them as they went, but Lauren made up a quick excuse about being on an errand to the supply closet. Rosalind nodded her agreement and stuck close to her friend. Her calm, collected mask was getting a fair bit of use this night. She was grateful she'd practiced it so much.

The supply closet proved to be locked, but Lauren had obviously prepared for this emergency. She turned to Rosalind, fishing in her valise for a slim leather roll that appeared to be meant for jewelry. "Cover me, Rosa. Complain about how the key's always sticking or something."

Rosalind nodded, leaning on one hip and sighing. She wanted to watch Lauren work the lock, but that would be unrealistic for a bored and annoyed nurse. "You'd think they'd have a little powdered graphite in a hospital this well funded. It's ridiculous to go around having to unstick a damn lock every time we need a piece of gauze."

Lauren nodded, sighing heavily. "Oh you know how they love to brag about this place and then keep us overworked and underfunded. I'd like to see the budget the high and mighties came up with for their own homes. I bet they have lovely drapes but nothing but cracker in the cupboard." The snark sounded very realistic, but Rosalind supposed that it would. She smiled when Lauren straightened and opened the door. They strode inside and closed it behind them, and Rosalind turned to Lauren for guidance.

"Bandages and ice, please. I'll get the medications. I'll also need a hypodermic and the smallest bottle you can find of Phenol." There was another lock that needed tending. Lauren went directly to it without stopping.

Rosalind didn't question the supply list, or what Lauren was getting from her side of the room. She took the valise and found the smaller items, then she loaded in some ice. By the time she accomplished that Lauren had pocketed some bottles from the shelf. Rosalind thought to ask what they were, then decided she didn't care. She closed the valise and clutched the top in both hands. "Ready."

Lauren nodded and got the door. They didn't have to pretend to be on a mission or that they needed to hurry. A small trail of water followed Rosalind after they exited the hospital, but she had sufficient ice to accommodate the melting. The women ran all the way back to their room, closing the door with a slam. Rosalind winced and wedged herself up against the door, as though protecting it from being shoved in by an outside force. Her heart was pounding in her chest as fear of being caught and fear of what had happened to the woman on her bed fought for dominance in her mind.

Lauren set straight to work. She stripped away the ruined clothing with her sewing shears and exposed the poor woman. Rosalind couldn't help but watch, her nausea growing with each moment. The ice was placed over the worst of the injuries. It seemed that the corset had provided some protection to the woman, but there was already a vibrant mark where the busk had obviously slammed against the fragile flesh of her belly. Lauren cleaned the area with water, then the phenol, moving with quick, precise motions.

Rosalind sank down to the floor, the door supporting her weight. "Why are we doing this? She needs a doctor, doesn't she?" That seemed right. If she was injured she needed real help, not stolen bits and bobs of medicine administered by a first year student.

"And tell him what? They'll just accuse her of indiscretion and write her off. No, the doctors will be little help right now. They would ruin her, Rosa." Lauren finished tending the woman's body and covered her with the blanket from the other bed. Now neither of them had a place to sleep tonight. Lauren used they hypodermic to draw some kind of liquid out of a glass container. Rosalind winced a little as the woman tied off the patient's arm and then administered whatever she'd taken from the hospital.

The rest of the evening took on an air of unreality for Rosalind. Not an hour later Lauren was sitting next to her on the floor, shaking visibly. Rosalind clasped Lauren's hand and the women shook together, their eyes on their patient. "It's in God's hands now." Lauren said softly. "Pray with me, please."

Rosalind nodded numbly, but she had no words for God. She bowed her head in respect for Lauren's wishes, her mind reeling. If this woman had trusted the man enough to go out with him then what might become of Rosalind if she did the same? She had no ready chaperone, all she had were her wits. They were no match for a violent person's motives.

She shuddered and did her best to pack her revulsion up tight inside herself. She'd been bold with Franklin since he returned from his holiday. They'd gone to supper together and he'd walked her home. What if he was simply trying to lure her in, and his intentions were as pure as those of this woman's date? Danger had always seemed to come from unknown men, but this changed her perspective quite a bit.

She hugged Lauren, holding the woman tight. "Men are animals." She shuddered when she said it, unable to stop her imagination from turning what had once been a pleasant daydream about love into a savage nightmare about the loss of control over her life and body. The motions were similar, it was only intent that separated the two. She wanted to hide from these thoughts, but she let them run their course. There was only one defense, really. If she might be hurt by a man courting her, and might marry a man for whom drink and violence would become common amusements then she must simply never become so entangled. One could not engage the possibility of sexual congress without also accepting the risk of being so abused.

Lauren shook her head. "No, Rosa. Don't let this sour you. There have to be good men in the world." Her voice sounded desperate to Rosalind's ears. Rosalind wondered who Lauren was trying to convince. Rosalind couldn't even bear to look at Lauren.

She stood, after a few minutes, offering Lauren a hand up. Whatever thoughts Lauren was having were hidden from Rosalind. It was for the best. The women looked at each other, and the grim expression on Lauren's face might have matched Rosalind's own. "When will she wake?" Rosalind asked, sparing the unknown woman a sympathetic glance.

"Hard to say. Perhaps you should be elsewhere when she does. This is my future, in a way. Caring for those who have been harmed. You're no good at it. You'll make things worse." Lauren spoke with the same certainty as before. It hurt Rosalind deeply that she could say such a thing.

"I-" Rosalind began, before closing her eyes, sighing softly. She wasn't a proper woman. She'd all but decided just now that she would continue not to be so. It was best to stop pretending she might change her mind. "I see. I'll cede the bed for the night." Her tone sounded cold, even to her own ears.

Lauren winced, then nodded. Rosalind saw then that this too was going to end. She almost allowed herself a moment to think about how unfair that was, but a glance at the woman on the bed shamed her out of it. Whatever she might be feeling now was a pale comparison to the pain of the injured woman. Rosalind squeezed Lauren's arm. "I will fetch things if you require it, but otherwise attempt to stay out of your way. Do you think you'll need me if I take a shower?"

Lauren shook her head and turned Rosalind's desk chair to face the bed. "No. I don't think I'll need you."

Rosalind nodded and began to collect her toilet. Her emotions were trying to break through the icy numbness of shock, but Rosalind pushed back against them. She would not feel whatever was lying in wait. This night was only marginally about her. The only thing she allowed herself was the small satisfaction of knowing she'd helped in her own small way, and the hope that Lauren had cared well for her charge.

* * *

Robert cleared the table after their meal, picking up the notes he'd taken while they worked together beforehand. He was excited the year was over and he'd be returning home, soon. He had one last fantasy to fulfill with Michael before he would feel satisfied with his sexual discoveries.

He was bolder than normal when they retired to the bedroom. He wanted to do to Michael what had been done so many times to him. He urged the older man toward the bed when he was aroused and attempted to turn him so he would be face down. Michael went along for the most part, but he refused to get on the bed at Robert's urging. The older man had never shown the slightest hesitation before. Robert took a step back, frowning slightly. "Is something amiss?" He didn't want to talk or explore their feelings right now. He just wanted to feel what Michael had felt for nine months or so on a nearly weekly basis.

Michael scoffed and motioned toward the bed. "Is there? I don't see you climbing in bed yet, either."

Robert frowned, but complied, stripping out of his clothing. Perhaps Michael would prefer to be on his back. That was an enjoyable position, provided the old man could lift his legs high enough for it. Robert knelt on the bed, waiting for Michael to join him.

The old man crawled in bed behind him, which irritated Robert. He turned, crossing his arms over his chest. "I want to be on top, Michael. I'm not inexperienced anymore. It's unfair for me to accept at all times and never give."

Michael's expression looked as annoyed as Robert's. The men glared at each other for a long moment, before Robert's expression softened. "Is it that problematic? You know we'll have sex more than once, and that I'll undoubtedly want you inside me before our time is concluded. It's only fair for me to get a chance to feel what you feel."

"Robert, you've made a mistake." Michael's voice was hard and cold, which shocked Robert to his core. He backed up a bit, feeling his lust superseded by confusion.

"Beg pardon, sir?" He asked, frowning deeply.

"That's better. Now bend over and we'll have no more-" Michael would have continued talking, but Robert slid out of the bed. "You're leaving?" The older man didn't sound hurt or upset. He sounded angry.

Robert nodded, his jaw set in a determined grimace. "You're right. I have made a mistake. I thought we were equals, Michael. I thought you cared for me." He didn't bother to keep the hurt out of his voice. He felt betrayed and used. It was a sickening feeling.

The feeling only deepened when Michael laughed. It had once set Robert's hormones careening through his bloodstream like salmon rushing to spawn, but now it sounded like a donkey's braying, obnoxious and loud. Robert felt foolish and hurt. He collected his clothing and began to pull it on, his lips pressed tight together lest he say something that would cause problems.

Michael stood and grabbed Robert's arm, stopping him from pulling his pants up. Robert jerked his hand out of Michael's grip. It occurred to him that he might need to defend himself. The thought was horrible, but he backed up and prepared for a fight. Michael was not his father and he'd been in a fight or two. For all the man's height he was older and less fit. "You're worse than a woman, Rob. At least they damn well know their place. Perhaps I should treat you like one, see how you like that instead."

That set Robert's fury alight. He didn't wait for Michael to move closer. He lashed out, punching the older man as hard as he could in the belly. Michael doubled over in surprise, which put him at the perfect level for Robert to kick him to the ground. Robert tugged his pants up and closed them as he spoke. "You are not even worthy of my attention. I am quite sorry to have known you." He spoke stiffly, stalking over to the man's dresser and drawing the sketch of himself from the drawer where it was kept. "Good day, sir." He filled the last sentence with as much mockery as he could, before collecting the rest of his clothing and marching out.

When he was on the street he paused, tucking his shirt into his pants. His heart was pounding in his chest, his breath was short. He winced at the pain he felt. His arm hurt but it was a small thing compared to how sad he was. He'd badly misjudged Michael and his intentions. That the man had turned so quickly to asserting his physical dominance troubled Robert deeply. It made him even more certain that his sexual desires were unclean and inherently sinful. If he had been with a woman he would have been safe and of course he'd have shown her all due care and respect.

He stroked his hand through his hair and shivered, walking as he drew on his coat. He couldn't wait to go home, now. He'd rather go back to the Hell he knew then continue to explore this brand new Hell.


	8. Friendship

Two weeks later Rosalind still felt strange when she in her dormitory. She and Lauren were avoiding each other, which hurt more than she'd anticipated it would. Her emotions were all over the place, now. She often had to pause to calm herself. It got slightly easier every time but she still found herself jumping at shadows and fearing the worst when she heard a strange noise while going to and from classes. She gave Professor West an even wider berth than normal. He struck her as being entirely untrustworthy. Not to mention in her current state she might be tempted to harm him on principle if he tormented her.

She was thoroughly exhausted when she arrived home that evening. The sight of Lauren studying almost made Rosalind turn around and leave again, but she hated tiptoeing around like she had something to be guilty of. She set her books on her desk and laid out her notes, preparing to study for a test.

Lauren looked up at just the right moment and their eyes met across the room. Rosalind quickly dropped her gaze again, and Lauren sighed softly. "Rosalind, do you mind if we talked for a moment?"

Rosalind was somewhat hurt that Lauren abandoned her pet name. She nodded and took her seat, turning it so she would be facing her roommate. "I don't mind." She folded her hands in her lap, feeling a molecule of relief that they were finally talking again. It had hurt to lose her best friend.

Lauren's expression seemed to mirror Rosalind's thought and the aspiring nurse scooted closer, closing the gap between them to a few inches. Rosalind offered her hand to Lauren. Lauren accepted it and they sat in silence for a moment, looking at each other's expressions.

Lauren seemed troubled. Rosalind didn't like it. The look did not suit her face at all. She'd always been so cheerful before. Finally the blonde woman spoke. "I'm sorry I snapped at you. It was unkind of me to say that you would be no help. I couldn't have done what I needed to do without you. Thank you for your help, and for being so understanding." The words seemed sincere and heartfelt. Rosalind squeezed Lauren's hand softly.

"I apologize for being less than helpful. It was unfair of me to worry about my reaction to what happened when there was someone more deserving of your concern. I felt quite helpless and it bothered me. You were very capable. I admire that." She said it with no reservation, grateful to have the chance to apologize.

Lauren's expression lightened to a shy smile. "I can't believe we did that." She shook her head, sighing softly. "I have a confession. I didn't want to tell you at the time, for fear that you'd judge me for it. I see now how foolish that is, and it serves as proof that I was not thinking straight. You were quite careful not to ask what I gave the woman. Do you want to know?"

Rosalind pressed her lips together. She did want to know, but more than that she saw the hungry, somewhat desperate expression on Lauren's face. Lauren wanted to admit what she'd done. Whatever it was Rosalind resolved not to judge her for it. "Please tell me."

Lauren nodded and then opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. She sat up straighter, taking another deep breath. Rosalind kept holding her hand, trying to make her expression as understanding and neutral as possible. "I gave her drugs that would induce a miscarriage. I informed her when she awoke and remembered-" Lauren's voice cut off. She took a deep breath, clearly on the verge of tears.

Rosalind stood and gathered Lauren in her arms, hugging the girl tight. "Oh, Lauren. You dear woman. What you did was for the best. She'd have been expelled if she'd been found to be with child."

Lauren cleared her throat and tried to speak again. "I gave-" the words were high and her voice broke, forcing her to restart. "I gave her another dose a week and a half later. She started her monthly afterward. We'll never know if we altered anything. I may have killed a child, Rosa."

Rosalind stroked Lauren's hair, holding her tight. "You did what was right and what the woman wanted. You didn't force that decision upon her, or harm her in the process. Don't you dare feel guilty about your part. If you must feel terrible feel angry on her behalf that she should be put in the position where she must choose between the brothel and a home. The only thing you provided her was a hand in her own destiny and badly needed care."

Lauren held Rosalind in a death grip, and soon began weeping openly. Rosalind held the blonde, content just to be there. She thought she might cry in sympathy, but luckily her resolve was enough to conquer her emotions. She stroked Lauren's hair until the tears dried up, then kissed the blonde's forehead.

They parted by degrees, each straightening their clothing. Lauren dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief and Rosalind smoothed her hair, though it was still pristine. When they had no more pretense for silence Rosalind spoke again. "I cannot bear to be around Franklin after that. I know you disapprove of my demeanor. I know you had hope that I was losing my resolve to remain unwed. I'm sorry to disappoint." The last words came out a soft mumble. She wasn't used to apologizing, especially not for that. When it came to Lauren, though, ROsalind was always sorry if she disappointed the woman.

Lauren chewed her bottom lip for a moment, then nodded. "I've been more careful with Thomas." They let the implications of what that meant sink in for a moment. Laure was the first to speak, and she did so cautiously. "I wish you would not hold this against all men. I will forgive Thomas for the sins of his gender. Please do the same for someone, if not Franklin." Lauren didn't look at Rosalind when she spoke. Rosalind felt guilty that her potential reaction would cause her friend to avert her eyes.

"I- I enjoyed how I felt with him. I'm not sure if I have the strength you do. Looking the fact of human cruelty in the eye everyday is a far cry from the sterile laboratory where I hope to unravel the universe." Rosalind felt weak for even thinking all that, much less saying it aloud. She felt she was betraying Science, in a way. Implying it was less vital or less useful.

Lauren took her hand this time. Rosalind was grateful for that. "I hope you will be open to human kindness again. There is so much of it, Rosa. I must believe that it outweighs the cruelty, but that we take it for granted." The passion in Lauren's voice made Rosalind's heart stir in unfamiliar ways. She found herself looking at Lauren in a new light. The woman's passion and humanity could not be damped by the requirements of interacting with male society. Rosalind wondered how such a woman could come to exist and felt guilty for not being like Lauren.

Rosalind took a deep breath and decided she disagreed as she spoke. The hope Lauren held was likely foolish and liable to cause her harm. Rosalind would have no part in it. "I hope you're right, my dear." If Rosalind's theory was correct the world was not going to be a kind place for anyone to live, man or woman alike.

* * *

Robert was a bundle of problems after his breakup with Michael. He felt guilty that he'd attacked his teacher, ashamed that he'd been so badly mistreated, and afraid of retribution. He wasn't sleeping well and his concentration was worse than it had ever been in his life. He spent a lot of time moping around his dormitory, trying to read. Mostly he stared at the pages of his books and worried.

Finally his roommate great tired of treading carefully around Robert. It was a Friday evening when Franklin drew Robert's book out of his limp fingers and brought Robert back down to Earth. Robert blinked and frowned, looking over at his roommate. They'd spoken very little. Franklin was another physics major, but they had different schedules. Robert didn't know what to say, so he sat there and frowned at Franklin.

Franklin huffed and snapped his fingers in front of Robert's face. "Hey, you didn't answer my question, Lutece. What's going on?" Though the words were somewhat abrasive the young man's tone and expression reflected only worry.

Robert shook his head and gave the other mana a sheepish look. "My apologies. I was lost in thought." He cleared his throat and looked up at the man. "I broke up with my girl." It was such an inadequate explanation. He missed the relationship he'd had, of course, but he also regretted that he'd been driven to violence, that he'd so badly misjudged West's intentions. He hurt so much he wasn't sure he'd ever recover.

Franklin gave a sympathetic look and sat down at his desk. "Me too, man. It's rough. Feels like you got worked over pretty good, huh?" Franklin put his hand on his chest, to indicate where it hurt.

Robert nodded, his eyes falling to the floor. "I feel a fool." His chest did indeed feel tight. He was skipping West's class to avoid looking the man in the eye. News of the beating the man had taken got around, but he claimed he was mugged by a "simpering coward". Robert didn't care what names he was called. The man had deserved it for his threat and for his attitude. Robert never cared for that kind of talk about women, and he certainly had no intention of being taught any kind of romantic lesson by the likes of that jackass.

Franklin nodded, nudging Robert's shin with the toe of his shoe. "Hey, look up at me. You're not a fool. Girls got their ways of lying, but you couldn't have known. We all get our hearts broken somewhere down the line. Was it worth it?"

Robert mulled it over. That was a question he thought he knew the answer to. He was hurting and sad, his pride bruised and his knuckles sore. Was there any good side to this? He thought about it for a while. The evenings together, the advanced lessons, the bliss he'd felt at finding someone who understood him. "I'd say it's a draw. I hurt in equal measure to the joy I received."

Franklin whistled softly. "Damn. That's too bad." They were silent for a moment. Robert eyed Franklin, who appeared to be lost in thought. Robert was wary of this conversation. If Franklin came to understand the real problem he might out Robert, which would be disastrous. Finally the other man spoke again, with almost exaggerated care. "You seem like a good guy. You got friends, good grades, you're smart and you're not a prick about it. You'll find someone real nice who'll be good to you. Even if you don't, at least you got your friends, your research, and your health, right?"

Robert thought that over, then nodded slowly. He was hurting, but it might be temporary. He was safe and the school year was nearly over. He'd never have to see West again if he didn't want to. More than that, he now knew what he wanted in a lover. That knowledge was something, even if it had come at a high price. "You have a point." He conceded it slowly, with a nod of his head. "I wish we had parted on better terms. I badly misjudged her character."

Franklin sighed. "We've all been there. You know better now, though. You'll find someone, don't worry." Franklin shoved Robert's shoulder lightly, which made Robert blink in confusion. Franklin smiled and stood up. "Hey, let's go take a hike, huh? It's nice in the spring and you'll feel good after some fresh air. We can get a pint or something after."

Robert nodded, seeing the value in that. He stood and smiled at Franklin. "I think you're right. Some fresh air would indeed do me good. You are a gentleman and a scholar, Franklin." He would do no good sitting around feeling sorry of his situation. He couldn't undo what he'd been through, but he could alter how he was reacting to it. He felt just a little bit lighter. Though he'd had to lie it felt good to talk about what he'd been through, to be able to admit that he'd been hurt. The fact that Franklin was being so mature with his advice was also helpful. He wasn't doomed to a life of solitude or abuse. He could find someone to love. He just had to look with more caution.

Franklin grinned at Robert. "That's the spirit." He stood and grabbed their coats, tossing one to Robert. "Out we go then. I'll see a real smile on your face today no matter what it takes."


	9. Gossip

True to her word to her parents, Rosalind was at the registration office the day summer classes became available. Summer school the best use of her downtime in her point of view. She could stay on and tutor here, which would earn her money and her knowledge would be put to use rather than festering in her mind. These efforts would get her in the field that much earlier. Beside, her parents had made it clear that they preferred she stay at school until she gave up the silly notion of being independent.

When the man behind the counter at the registration office informed her that she was not able to sign up for classes she very nearly lost her composure. "Are you certain that I cannot take summer classes?" Rosalind clenched her hands at her sides as the man behind the counter looked her over. His gaze suggested she was some kind of mythical creature rather than a woman, but she was well used to people looking at her like some kind of anomaly. Though the incredulously glances were common she was in no mood to tolerate them form officie clerks.

She cleared her throat and glared at the man while she waited for him to answer her question. He coughed and looked down again, his eyes fixed the papers when he spoke. "Er, yes. Miss Lutece I'm afraid you don't qualify for any of our summer courses." He attempted to sound professional but the attempt was mediocre and transparent.

She huffed at him, leaning in a little closer to emphasize her annoyance. "I put my request in at the proper time, I passed my classes, I paid for these classes. Therefor I _am_ qualified and I shall take them." She spoke evenly, her hands grasping the edge of the counter to restrain any further sign of emotion. If she started to scream at the man he would not help her and she doubted she would get a refund of her payment.

The man looked through his papers, unable to meet her eyes. "None of the teachers at your current level have openings in their classes." He was trying to sound matter of fact but Rosalind could see through that as well. If they were going to make men lie to her she wished they would hire men capable of doing so. Something was going on. She didn't know exactly what but it was almost certainly ridiculous. Everything about this endeavor was ridiculously complicated and uncomfortable.

"I'm certain that is not true." Rosalind replied evenly. She thought she should get a sainthood for how patient she was being. "I reserved a space, therefor I should still have one. That is how reservations work."

The argument probably would have gone on longer but a professor entered the office, coffee cup in hand. Rosalind recognized him as another of the physics professors (she'd memorized their faces the moment she'd arrived on campus and laid eyes on their portraits in the office). She took a deep breath and cleared her throat. "Excuse me, Professor Cohen, may I have a word?" She straightened up to face him, her annoyance hidden to make the encounter more favorable.

The professor paused, turning to look at the young woman who'd addressed him. He bore a superficial resemblance to West. Both had dark hair and substantial beards. While West looked like a man always one drink shy of violence Cohen looked thoughtful and curious. He didn't frown at Rosalind or cross his arms. In fact he didn't behave as though she was wasting his time at all. He mainly seemed surprised to be addressed. "Ah, yes?"

Rosalind cleared her throat. "I was wondering if you might have a seat open in your summer class schedule, or if you know of a teacher who does."

"Excuse me, miss Lutece!" The man behind the counter barked. "You're not supposed to bother the teachers!"

Cohen looked at the two, his eyebrows climbing toward his hairline. "I must check. Are you really the infamous Rosalind Lutece?" His voice remained calm, despite the clerk's outrage at her impertinence.

Rosalind frowned, taken aback by the question. Why should she be infamous? She couldn't deny that was her name so she nodded mutely. What on Earth was going on with this school?

Professor Cohen gave her a soft smile and turned back to the clerk. "Please put Miss Lutece in my practical physics class if I have an opening available."

The clerk frowned at Cohen, then attempted to glance up at Rosalind surreptitiously. Rosalind gave him her best cold, unperturbed stare (which was only getting better with frequent use). "You heard the man." If there was a note of arrogance in her tone she was certain it was understandable, given the circumstances.

The clerk grumbled something and shuffled through the book in front of him. He noted her name down and slid a piece of paper out. "Book list, class time, and location." For some reason he sounded put out about the whole thing, which only fueled her curiosity. What did these people think she would do in these classes? Why would they attempt to prevent her from taking them?

Rosalind took the paper and gave him a gracious nod of her head. Sometimes being polite was the best possible form of insult. "Thank you. I hope you have a wonderful day." She said it without emphasis, then turned smartly on her heel and walked toward the exit.

The man huffed but did not reply in kind. Rosalind chuckled softly as she slipped out the door and began her journey to the bookstore.

Three weeks into the lab she had to admit she was terribly bored and annoyed by the whole endeavor. Instead of working on her own problems alone she was assigned a lab partner. In the course of those three weeks she'd gone through four of them, despite the fact that they were not required to change partners. It seemed like none of her peers were willing to work with her.

On this particular day they were examining the effects of friction on motion. The task was relatively simple. Three different materials were laid out and the students were to drag a small wooden block over the items while their partner recorded the reading on a hanging scale and timed how long it took to get from the start line to the end. It wasn't impossible to take the reading on one's own but it meant juggling several different items at once.

Assuming her partner would want the enjoyable portion of the assignment Rosalind took up the stopwatch and clipboard. He looked at her with confusion, then took the watch from her. "I'll call out the times and weight while you write it down."

Rosalind frowned at him. "I am perfectly capable of taking the readings. We are supposed to be partners." There was something of a tired melancholy to her words, as though she had repeated them too much to really mean them anymore. Most of her partners had either taken on all the responsibilities or made her do all the work, only to take the credit.

The man snorted and began to set up his block. "Partners? You're here because the professor wants to impress you. We all know how you fawned over West." He gave her a knowing smirk. "Cohen even looks a little like him. I bet I know how you'll be passing the class."

Rosalind took temporary leave of her senses. She remembered tightening her hands on her clipboard while her vision went red with rage. A moment later there were hands on her arms dragging her up off her knees. Her knuckles hurt for some reason and she was somewhat surprised to find that she was yelling imprecations at her lab partner. He was certainly worse for the wear. The man was laying out on the floor, curled up with his face in his arms. Their classmates dragged her away. She was too startled to fight them. Her body slumped and her expression became one of shock and horror.

Professor Cohen moved to help the boy to his feet. Now that the attack was over the young man refused to look at Rosalind. He had a cut on his forehead and what looked like the beginning of a black eye. The cut matched the curvature of the corner of the clipboard a little too precisely to be coincidence. Rosalind pressed her lips together and remained silent. This was it, then. Fighting was certainly against the rules and she might as well say a fond farewell to the career she might have had.

The man touched the cut and looked at his fingers. The sight of his own blood seemed to enrage him anew. He whipped his body around to face Rosalind and took a step forward. Rosalind braced herself for an attack. The arms around hers tightened, either to stop her from escalating or to hold her in place. Her fears turned to the more pressing worry of whether or not the teacher would allow this man to take revenge on her. With so many allies she could not fight him back. Her stomach clenched and became heavy and she felt herself becoming a little lightheaded.

Professor Cohen put his arm across the man's chest, clearing his throat. "That's enough. You're scientists, not boxers. Lutece and Bradbury will clean themselves up and meet me after class. Lutece at four, Bradbury at five. I suggest you both use the time to reflect on your actions." He gave them both stern looks, keeping his arm on Bradbury's chest to ensure that no further mayhem ensued. Rosalind relaxed again and found that her knees were a little weak. Now the arms on hers were holding her up instead of back but she still found she could not be thankful for them.

Bradbury turned and left the classroom. Rosalind took a deep breath and attempted to settle her nerves. After a couple seconds she managed and the men released her. She went to retrieve her belongings, her hands shaking the whole time. She was certain she'd be expelled or arrested for attacking the young man. She felt foolish for the act. Perhaps he had deserved it but the risk was not worth the dubious reward.

Her meeting was in an hour so Rosalind went directly to Cohen's office and took a seat. She opened the novel she carried with her in case of just such an emergency. Pride and Prejudice/ was a recommendation from Lauren and so far Rosalind was enjoying it. In her current state of mind she couldn't concentrate on the book. Her eyes scanned the same page over and over again until she gave up with a sigh and shook her head. Instead she stared at nothing and worried.

She was bouncing her leg and each bounce hit the floor with a noticeable tap. After five minutes of this a clerk looked up from his filing and sighed. "Miss, please control yourself."

Rosalind almost made a snarky comment, but she decided it wasn't worth it in the end. She took deep breaths and tried to get her mind back into her reading. Fidgeting wouldn't make the time pass faster, after all. It was difficult to focus on the words at first, but once she forced herself to get through a whole page she lost herself in the story.

It felt like almost no time had passed when Professor Cohen tapped the door to his office to draw Rosalind's attention. She looked up sheepishly and took her feet, tucking her book back under her arm. "Hello, Professor."

Cohen nodded cordially to her and opened the door. "Please come in, Miss Lutece." He didn't sound angry or grave. He was as polite and unemotional as the day they'd met. In her current state it did nothing for her nerves, but at least he did not make them worse.

They were both silent until they took their seats. Rosalind sat rigid in the chair before his desk. It reminded her sharply of grade school when she'd shoved a girl for mocking her habit of reading. There was something of a pattern to her behavior in that regard. She felt ashamed. The feeling came upon her all at once, doubled because she had not felt it before. Hitting the boy didn't make her feel remorse, but losing her temper might put her career aspirations in jeopardy. It was a silly thing to do and she had no doubt that she'd hear the same from the professor.

Cohen cleared his throat. "Rosalind, I want to let you know that I have seen how much trouble the men in the class have given you. I cannot condone your actions but I can understand your frustration." He sounded paternal, in a way. Like he was personally aggrieved by her actions.

Rosalind was quite surprised at how the conversation had begun. He was more sympathetic than anyone else she'd ever met. It made her feel strange. Her shoulders unknotted a little and relaxed, but she frowned deeper. There had to be a catch. "I sense that you're about to say, 'but'."

Cohen gave her a wry chuckle. "You know that you can't hit your classmates." It struck Rosalind how relaxed he was being about the whole thing. She'd expected fury and lectures. This was. . . a nice change. Her respect for him rose. Perhaps men were not all the same.

"I know." She sighed and looked down at her hands. "He could have said anything about me, honestly. It's just. . . he was impeding the experiment. All of my partners have. I feel that my work is suffering for their stupidity." She spat the last word out, like it was the worst insult she could possibly imagine. Truthfully there was nothing that Rosalind disliked more than the stupidity of her peers. She had hoped they would be above this sort of petty nonsense.

Cohen nodded. She thought his expression seemed sympathetic. That was surprising. She was used to adults dismissing her or telling her that she would simply have to become used to that sort of treatment. "Then I suppose there is nothing for it but for you to work without a partner."

Rosalind was surprised at the idea, though she couldn't say she was displeased. At least her failure would be at her own hands. "Really? I thought collaboration was the soul of research." Just because it would be easier did not mean she necessarily wanted to do things that way. It would do her no favors to learn to work on her own in a field where cooperation was important, after all.

Cohen nodded. "It is, but I imagine you'll have difficulty finding much earnest collaboration. With that being the case perhaps it would be a disservice to force others to work with you. I'm certain you've heard this quite a lot but women in science are rare. You will receive this treatment all the time for the rest of your life. It is not enough to love physics, Rosalind. You must love conflict. You must strive for conflict, and to prove yourself. You have to want this more than any of your peers and you must show the same spirit you showed in that lab this morning." He paused to let those words sink in. Rosalind mulled them over, looking down at her hands. "However, you cannot fight this like a child. You must fight with your brain and your words, rather than throwing a violent tantrum." He was gravely serious, his pleasant amusement gone. When she looked up his gaze was stern but not angry.

Rosalind sighed, resting her elbow on the desk and her head in her hand. He was probably right. It was disheartening. She just wanted to devote herself to science, not put up with male egos. "That is a waste of my time and theirs."

Cohen nodded and sighed as well. "I know. It is. It will be a drain, and it will be daunting. Sometimes you will believe that you cannot ever succeed because of the political forces at play, and it will hurt more than you can bear. I can only advise you to be brave and to accept that you are intelligent enough for this work, and that your voice is needed, whether the common rabble believes it is or not."

Rosalind was speechless after all of that. Nobody had ever been so frank but nonjudgemental. "What if I can't withstand all of that?" She felt terrible admitting her fears, but Lauren could only understand so much. Lauren was used to having to take orders from doctors, it was part of her job description. Rosalind hoped to never take orders from anyone.

Cohen reached over and touched her forearm gently. "It will be hard, and perhaps sometimes you may need to take a step back. That's acceptable and good for you. I think that you can do this, Miss Lutece. Whether you want to or not is for you to decide."

Rosalind nodded and tucked the information away for later perusal. "Am I going to get in trouble?"

Cohen shrugged. "It depends on whether the young man can convince an administrator that you hit him. I doubt he'll even report it, but you will almost certainly deal with petty spite from him."

That annoyed Rosalind. When she spoke her voice became louder and more angry. "He accuses me of something blatantly false, something which soils my name and reduces me to nothing but some kind of. . . what? Stalker? Deluded girl who only studies science to find a husband? Is that even a thing that happens? Especially to someone like West?"

Cohen shrugged. "I have never encountered it. I'm afraid that Professor West has done you a disservice by starting this rumor. I'm surprised that it's common enough knowledge for the students to have heard it. Unfortunately you don't have much recourse. He claims that you attempted to seduce him and that he nobly turned you away."

Rosalind stared, mouth open for a moment. How dare he say such blatantly false things! She opened and closed her mouth several times before she stood, her hands clenched at her sides. She had brief but tantalizing thoughts about going to West's office and strangling him with her bare hands. It would be so delicious to choke the life out of him for telling such a blatant and horrific lie. It might even be worth the punishment she would receive.

Cohen stood as well, much slower and more carefully. Rosalind glared at him, then shook her head and turned away. She spoke softly, her eyes downcast. "I'm sorry. The thought of him touching me is horrifying. I can't even imagine desiring to have a conversation with him, much less becoming his wife." She shuddered. Even saying those words made her want to vomit.

Cohen moved around behind her. Curiosity drove Rosalind to glance over her shoulder. He was lighting a burner under a pot of water. Apparently they were going to have tea. She used the moment to take a few more deep breaths. Cohen was the one who broke the silence. "I'm sorry. I wish this could be easier for you. From my observations I understand that the claim is ridiculous, but that may be why you had such trouble finding summer classes. The only thing you can do is continue as you are and attempt to ignore the rumors. They will die without oxygen, like a fire."

Rosalind huffed. "And in the aftermath my reputation will still be tarnished." Her tone was sharp and waspish. She took a deep breath to calm herself. Yelling at Cohen would not fix the problem. She was being extremely childish.

Cohen took his seat again. "Yes. I'm afraid that would happen even if you were not pursuing the sciences. It is a sad part of society that we perceive putting someone else down as raising ourselves up."

Rosalind huffed and sat down again, her arms crossed over her chest. "Ugh." That little syllable held her deep disgust for the whole thing and her sincere desire to rid herself of all the nonsense.

Cohen chuckled softly. "I concur. Chin up, Miss Lutece. You're a fine woman and that will be evident to those worthy of your time." His voice was more cheerful now.

Rosalind let out one wry chuckle, allowing his cheer to influence her mood. "If such a person exists I shall possibly die of shock."

* * *

The relief Robert felt to be far away from West was almost miraculous. Away from the stress of being in close quarters with his roommate and the irritation of taking classes from the man who'd made a fool of him Robert began to feel much more like himself. When he was invited to a game of cards with some of his old summer friends he took the chance eagerly. He felt that spending time with familiar acquaintances was just the thing he needed to put his disappointing romantic life out of his mind.

He did find solace in the event, though it was unclear whether that came from the company of friends or the copious brandy he consumed. Robert wasn't used to drinking, especially not to excess. He found himself laughing very easily and loudly. The other men were all sharing stories about their luck in love and courtship. Without the drink the subject might have been depressing. As it was, Robert thought the whole thing was hilarious. There was a part of him that was apprehensive about the conversation, but each swallow of his drink lessened the volume of that tiny voice.

The others were having so much fun talking about their exploits and trials that Robert couldn't help but join in. Unfortunately the only real courtship stories he could share were stale. At the time it seemed irrelevant. After all, these sort of stories were more the domain of boys, not the men they had all become. He finished his drink and leaned forward, a wide smile on his face as he began to speak. He formed his words carefully and slowly to counteract the slur that colored his tone.

"I once had a girl nearly throw herself at me." Robert confided with a grin. The other men all turned to look at him in surprise. "I know. I've always been dedicated to the bachelor lifestyle but apparently I didn't make that clear to her. We were at a party and she leaned forward, all but falling out of her dress. I tried to do the right thing, you know, and push her back upright before she embarrassed herself. She dodged toward my hand," Robert illustrated the motion while his companions howled with laughter, "And it landed square on her bountiful assets." He put his hand on his own chest to illustrate.

The men laughed at his retelling of the affair. He smiled brightly, pleased to be the center of attention and the reason for their laughter. Robert didn't bother to restrain his slur this time. "Poor Bridget, I do hope she found someone equal to her appetites."

One of the men at the table fell silent. His fellows seemed not to notice. "Bridget Brookwood?"

Robert nodded, realizing only after he'd done it that he should not have confirmed or denied that question. He sobered a little, running his hand through his hair. "Why do you ask?" HIs stomach felt strange, now. Like it was too heavy and too full.

The man replied angily, the clarity of his words showing that he was much less effected by drink than Robert. "Because that's my brother's wife. You must be lying, she's been a woman of unquestionable virtue the entire time I've known her."

The man to Robert's left snorted. "Ha! Her virtue used to be unquestionable because it wasn't present."

Robert put his hands up. "Other than this one interaction she was a paragon of virtue while in my presence." He didn't want to be responsible for ruining someone's reputation. Especially not a charming, intelligent woman like Bridget.

"You must have missed her when she was younger. She was quite the scandal when she was younger." The men laughed and began sharing stories about the young woman. Robert felt his stomach drop and a feeling of heaviness came over his heart. The woman's brother in law gave Robert a stony glare. Robert couldn't stand to hear the inevitable stream of recollections he'd begun. He mumbled an apology and took his leave, his head hanging down as he contemplated what he'd just done. It wasn't intentional, but he was certain there would be repercussions.

He started to walk toward his parents' home, his hands shoved into his pockets. "How on Earth do I keep making these mistakes? I should know better by now." His head was still swimming a little from the drink. He could walk straight, but only with concentration. He hunched his shoulders up, making himself smaller. "I suppose drink does not agree with me any more than it does my father. That's rather disheartening."

His mind lingered on those dark thoughts for a few moments. It was likely he had done Bridget some harm by sharing his story. It was wrong for her to have done the thing, but when a woman's worth came from her good reputation it was careless of him to soil hers. "I shall simply have to make it up to her," he resolved. There must be some way to repair her damaged name.


End file.
